


tell me about the stars

by captainhandsome



Series: Stars in your eyes (nerd/punk verse) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ((not their kids)), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Baking, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Kids, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Road Trips, Smut, Stargazing, Stress Baking, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and gay disasters, but like stupid light like their just v oblivious, these nerds lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhandsome/pseuds/captainhandsome
Summary: snapshots of how two pining idiots got together over christmas“I may have, possibly, told my mom a small, tiny, infinitesimally microscopic really, white lie…”“Buck…”“I said I had a boyfriend.”





	1. 15th Dec.

**Saturday, 15th December**

Bucky was going to die.

“Stevie, I’m gonna die.”

Steve didn't even look up from his laptop, “Ok, don't forget me in the will.”

“Steve,” he groaned, dragging out the ‘e’ and flopping on to his bed, burying his face in Steve's comforter, he grumbled “Iyonwangtguht’fam’lychrismsm.”  
Steve, abandoning his emails, finally turned around, “Parlez-vous Anglais, Bucket?” grinning at his friend who grumbled ‘fucgoff’, not moving his head. 

Steve, ever the smartass, laughed and - _no, that wasn’t the best sound in the world, shut up Barnes_ \- and said, “He’s dead, and probably straight, and,” he paused for a moment, contemplating a little before carrying on, “I’d probably be the one getting fucked.”

Bucky choked a little at that and finally sat up properly and turned to face Steve. He tried to steady his voice because _no he definitely hadn't been thinking about Steve in various different positions for the better part of a year, shut the fuck UP, Bucket_.

“You sayin’ you’re a bottom Rogers?” he said, trying for casual, he hoped it worked.  
Steve snorted at that, “Buck, I’m 5’6, and 110 pounds, who am I gonna top?”  
Bucky gave him a ‘touche’ look and moved over when Steve returned it with a look of his own, so he could sit where he was, and Bucky could lie down in his lap with Steve’s legs wrapped around his torso, his feet dangling on Bucky's abs, _that he did not think about way, way too much, shut up Rogers_.

Steve began playing with Bucky's hair, waiting until he was ready to talk, he twirled it between his long, thin ~~beautiful~~ fingers.

A moment of silence passed, speckled with sounds of the city outside their window and their offbeat breathing, ending when Bucky sighed and said, “I don’t want to go home for Christmas this year, but I do, but I don’t want to face my mom.” 

Steve's hands never stilled in his hair, “I thought you loved going home for Christmas?”

Bucky sighed again, letting his breath stream out through pursed lips, _that did NOT look kissable, at all, nope, nopetity nopenopenope_ , “I do,” Bucky said, snapping Steve out of his thoughts, “but,” he continued, “I may have, possibly, told her a small, tiny, infinitesimally microscopic really, white lie…”

“Buck…”

“I said I had a boyfriend.”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners and a ~~beautiful~~ _stupid_ smile stretching across his ~~pretty~~ _stupid_ lips jostling Bucky, “Bucky, why?!”

He huffed, almost a whine - _which was not adorable, Jesus Rogers_. “Stevie, I’m in my twenties, and the longest relationship I’ve had was in high school. My mom had me at 25, she has high expectations and wants grandkids.”

“But, why did you say you had a boyfriend, she was fine with it at Thanksgiving right?” Steve was doing the ~~adorable~~ _stupid_ tilted-head-squinty-eyed thing he did when he got confused.

“‘Cause, it’s embarrassing, Becca's already married, and I’m only a year younger than her.”

“Buck, Buck, is this a thing about you wasting your life-”

“I don’t know Steve, it seemed like a good idea. But then she invited him, because Scott’s bringing his girlfriend, and everyone else is coming, all my sisters and brothers, even grandma coming, and I was in a rush because Stark was being a dick and I mean really this is his fault-”

Steve burst out laughing at that, shaking Bucky again, and that _still wasn’t the best noise ever, nope, nuh uh. Not. At. All._

“You can’t blame all of this on Tony-” he started, but Bucky interrupted him with a whiny sort of scoff.  
“The hell I can’t, I should get _him _to pretend to be my boyfriend!”  
_Why did he say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot.___

____

Steve’s stomach dropped like a stone at that, for some completely unidentifiable reason and _definitely not because it made him irrationally jealous, nope, not at all_.  
He forced a laugh, “Yeah, I don’t think Rhodey’ll be so willing to let you have him during maybe the most romantic season ever.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, thinking a little, letting a comfortable silence stretch over them.

“Hey, Stevie,” he said, slowly, smiling up at his -crush- best friend.  
“Yeah Bucky,” Steve said, mimicking him, smiling down at him, eyes shining, with such a soft, open expression on his face, it made Bucky’s heart do something he wasn’t sure he could justify without leaving the Nile.

Bucky swallowed, _he was so gonna regret this_ , “So… you’re basically the closest thing I have to a real relationship, so, can _you_ pretend to be my boyfriend. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, or if it would make you feel uncomfortable-” he carried on, rambling

Steve was gonna regret this. _Fuck it._ He’d rather fake-have him than never know what he could have.  
“Ok, how long are you going for?”

Bucky sat up suddenly, twisting, so he was face to face with Steve, “- and really it’s a dumb- Wait, really?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, you’re my best friend, and you’d do it for me, right?”

“Of course, duh, don’t doubt it. Ever” Bucky says quickly, looking straight into Steve’s eyes.

He held his gaze and murmured, “I, I won’t.”

Another beat of silence passed, both of them still caught in each other's eyes, this time, suddenly jumping apart when a particularly loud horn went off outside.

“Uh, I, uh, we? Yeah, we’re going from the um, 21st to the 1st,” Bucky said, eyes darting away from Steve’s continued.

“Oh, ok, but, um, are you sure your mom would want someone like me ‘dating’ you?” Steve asked, fiddling with his hands and twisting his rings.  
_HANDS, holy shit, hands should not be this attractive what the fuck Barnes, HANDS_  
Bucky twisted his face sharply to face him, “What? What do you mean ‘someone like you’, Steve, you’re-” _incredible, amazing, breathtaking, beautiful_ “-you’re a good guy, my mom would love you.”

Steve gave him a levelling look, “Buck, I’m a college dropout who stabs people for a living, you’re half a year away from your masters in fucking _astrophysics_ , I-” he cut off with a sigh.

Bucky grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little, “Jesus, Stevie, you, you change people’s lives, your art is incredible, _you’re_ incredible-”

“Bucky, you can literally _change the world_ -”

Bucky sighed, “Steve, please, my mom didn’t even go to college, she’s not gonna judge you.” He tugged Steve into a hug, feeling him relax into him.

Oh god, he hoped nothing would get screwed up.


	2. 16th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rehearsals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chapter!!  
> i hope you enjoy it!!

**Sunday, 16th December**

Steve came stumbling into the kitchen, wearing a shirt that was way, way too big on him, that he probably stole from Bucky.  
And he _definitely didn't look hot and adorable. Nope, not at all, shut UP Barnes._

You’d think, that after living together for two years that he would have gotten used to a ridiculously hot and/or unfairly adorable morning-Steve-Rogers. But alas, nope.

“A-ha!” Bucky cried, with a ~~beautiful~~ _stupid_ smile, “he rises, after millenia upon millenia of rest, the grand Steven Grant Rogers is no longer dormant!”

“I hate that you think you’re funny,” Steve grumbled, reaching for Bucky’s coffee.  
Bucky snatched it back, cradling it against his chest, “Nope, people who insult my genius comedy skills don’t get coffee.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched up a little, “I apologise,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm that wasn’t fooling anybody, “clearly, Taika Waititi and John Mulaney are quaking, you should quit science and pursue comedy.”

Bucky squinted his eyes at him, “You know, that’s no way to treat your fake boyfriend.”  
“My fake boyfriend wouldn't deny me my lifeblood,” Steve countered, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at ‘boyfriend’ because _it was fake, not real, an illusion. Made up. Santa Clause. Make believe. Youtube pranks. FAKE_

Bucky leaned back and decided that Steve could have his coffee, pushing the mug towards him, “You’re almost as bad as Tony, you know that?”

Steve chucked a Froot Loop at him, grinning when it hit his forehead.  
_And he wasn’t absolutely fucking adorable when nose scrunched up, nope, nuh uh._

“Not even close, did you forget the time he tried to I.V drip coffee into his literal bloodstream when he was drunk.” Bucky laughed into a spoon of his Lucky Charms.

Suddenly, Steve’s phone went off, buzzing on the countertop, “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, answering it and putting it on speaker.

“Ah, tweedle dee, is tweedle dum there as well?”

“Good morning to you too, Tin can, how can we help?” Bucky said, sarcastically.

“You know you love me, Bucket. Anyway, ‘cos nobody’s seen anyone for ages and we’re all going different places ‘n stuff until who knows, everyone’s coming over tomorrow, be there or Pegs will drag both of you by the ears, asthma or not Stevie-boy _what the fuck dummy, no, you piece of-_ oh fuck, I gotta go gays, sorry, guys, see you tomorrow at six!”

“Hypocrite,” Bucky grumbled to Steve’s phone, disregarding the ‘call ended’ sign blinking up at them.  
“Well, I mean, he’s not wrong,” Steve reasoned, getting up to put the dishes away.  
Bucky harrumphed, _which was NOT cute, nope, no siree, shut up Rogers_ , “I guess.”

* * *

Bucky got up, stretched, and glanced over at the clock on his wall, somehow he’d managed waste away most of the day on his laptop doing jackshit, trying to convince himself that he was doing work. But all he’s done is update his Tumblr, watch movie analyses on youtube with a research paper open in another tab and found out his horoscope (it wasn’t looking up).

He leaned back in his chair, swinging a bit and staring out of the window, eyes following rain trails highlighted by the fluorescent orange street lights, thinking. _Could he really pull off dating Steve? And not give away his feelings? And convince his mom?_

She’d told him, when he came out to her at 16, that she’d suspected that he was gay when he was 10. Both of them had dropped drama the second could in high-school and last time they’d played two truths one lie with the gang, they’d both failed miserably. To really convince his family, they’d need to practice or something. Have some sort of a dry run, a rehearsal… 

_Holy shit._

He suddenly stood up and rushed to Steve’s room and barged in, “Steve, Stevie, I have an idea!”  
“That’s new,” Steve said, spinning in his chair and tugging his headphones down around his neck, and _fuck, he was wearing glasses, which definitely didn't make him hot, nope, he just looked… nice, yep, just nice. Nice. ~~Hot~~. Good._

Bucky huffed, “Hm, funny, anyway, so, you know the whole fake dating thing, and how we’re not really the best actors-”  
Steve snorted, “Understatement.”  
“Yeah, anyway, listen, we should do some sort of rehearsal with the guys tomorrow. To see if we can pull it off.”

Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes and messy floppy hair. _Not adorable Barnes, NOT adorable or hot or attractive in any way shape or form. Shut up._  
“Are we going to tell them or…”

“Uh. Let’s see if they believe it then we’ll tell them.” Bucky said, snapping out of his Steve-induced stupor.

“We should have some sort of story, or they’ll sniff it out, remember the time Thor realised that Nat and Clint were together before any of us.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah-” _Shut up, shut up, shut up, no other context, nope, nuh uh, mind out of the gutter Rogers_ “-uh, any ideas?”

“Well, it has to be after Thanksgiving, something basic, easy enough to remember, lets we said we liked each other, and uh, now here we are.”

Bucky grinned, “Riveting,”  
Steve rolled his eyes, “Anything more complicated than that, you won’t remember it,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, Bucky squawked in offence,  
“Stevie, I almost have a masters, I can remember a story-” Steve bit his lip, trying to stop himself from laughing,  
“Uh uh, sure, sure, Bucket.”

“You’re a funny guy Stevie, forget the art, go write for SNL,” Bucky said, moving to flop on Steve’s bed. Steve got up, took his headphones off and walked over to his bed.  
“We should hold hands, cuddle ‘n shit, y’know, like real couples, practice now for tomorrow and later,” Steve said, looking down at him, fiddling with his hands.”

Bucky grinned and opened his arms, “Come here then, boyfriend-of-mine.”

Steve clambered onto Bucky, wiggling around, trying to find a comfortable position and Bucky wrapped an arm around him.  
Bucky bent down, on a whim, and kissed the crown of his head, smiling into his hair when Steve relaxed further into his chest and tried to tamp down the hope blooming in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed it!!  
> come say hi on[tumblr!](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com)
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed, im way more likely to want to write if i know people want to read


	3. 17th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to Tony’s party, can they convince their friends that they’re dating?

**Monday, 17th December**

“Hello, dumb and dumber, I’m glad to see you’ve sorted your shit out,” Tony greeted them as they walked into his penthouse, holding hands. Steve, blushed? Or it might be the cold, if you were to ask him, he would say that it was the cold, despite knowing for definite that it wasn’t the temperature that was making his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones red. 

Everyone else joined in, congratulating them for ‘getting their heads out of their asses’ and maybe some money passed hands but that could just be his imagination.

Steve glared at Tony, “Aww, Rogers, you look like an angry chihuahua, Barnes how are you with him?”  
“Rhodey,” Steve said, ignoring Tony entirely, “how do you deal with _him_?”  
“I-” Rhodey started, from where he was wrapped around Tony, only to be interrupted by Natasha and Sam walking in with junk food,  
“Hey, hey, play nice, children,” Sam said, the same time Natasha made a remark about Steve and Bucky in fashion to Tony’s. 

They looked at each other in confusion, they thought that they would ask more questions but… if their friends believed it then maybe Bucky’s family would as well.

“Get your asses on the couch, lovebirds, we’re watching, The Grinch.” Clint yelled from under a mountain of blankets, snapping Steve and Bucky out of their ‘weird eye-communication thing’ (as dubbed by Tony).

They both got on the couch, stealing a blanket from The Clint Mountain™, much to his chagrin, and settled under it, wrapping it around their shoulders, Steve half on Bucky’s lap. To them, this was normal, platonic even (even though they only ever sat like that with each other), not part of their ruse.

No one was really paying attention to the movie, they were all whispering, catching up with each other and whatever gossip was circulating around.

Bucky and Steve were playing games on Steve's phone, heads touching, not paying attention to their surroundings, when Steve got a text from his boss, Erskine.

> **Erskine**  
>  Hey, Steve, remember the woman who wanted her daughters name tattooed? Yeah, she gave us the wrong spelling, get your ass to the shop right now or she’s gonna sue

> **Steve**  
>  Why can’t you do it

> **Erskine**  
>  She said it’s bad luck

> **Steve**  
>  ????????

> **Erskine**  
>  Idk either, just come here quick

“Sorry guys,” Steve said, getting up, typing out a ‘be there soon’ to Erskine, trying to tamp down the disappointment, _Bucky was warm and comfortable_ , “I gotta go, a client might sue.”  
Tony gave him an odd look, “I thought you could tattoo.”  
“I can!” Steve said, the time Bucky said  
“He can,” both incredulously, Bucky ready to go off at him. Tony _has a tattoo done by Steve_ he should know that he can tattoo.

“My knight,” Steve said softly, _too softly, fuck,_ tugging at Bucky’s elbow to get him to stop glaring at Tony, “are you staying or?”  
“Nah, I’ll come with you,” Bucky said, smiling at Steve, walking out with him.

“Bye!” he called out over his shoulder, going out the door to shouts of “use protection” and “stay safe kids”.

* * *

They all looked at each other, “Yeah, they’re not actually dating,” said Natasha, after a long silence.

“They’re literally sitting on top of each other? Nat, c’mon, they’re not that oblivious,” Bruce said, trying to reason with her, because he really, _really_ , wanted to believe that his friends weren’t complete idiots.

“No, no, no, the other day, when Bucket was on the phone with his mom, I’m pretty sure he just panicked, but he said that he had a boyfriend.” Tony said, trying to sit up properly without elbowing Rhodey in the nose.  
“Tones, Tones, baby, calm down,” he said, gently wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, semi-successful in calming him down. “No, honeybear!-” ok maybe not that successful “-he lied!”

“Well,” Clint piped up, “they never actually confirmed it, if anything, _you_ said that they were together-”

“They were _holding hands!_ ”

“Who knows!?” Sam interjected, “I’ve known both of them forever, and they’re literally as dense as brick walls, multiple walls, a house of walls, _fucking Trump’s imaginary wall_.” He slumped back against the couch cushions, he’s so done with this shit, it’s been going on too fucking long.

* * *

Bucky noticed Steve was shivering slightly, on the walk back from Nomad to their apartment, after Steve had quickly fixed the woman’s tattoo, “Hey Stevie,” he said, bumping his arm to Steve’s shoulder, “you cold?”

“...No,” he said, uncertainly, but Bucky wasn’t having it,  
“You sure?” he teased, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders, smiling when he snuggled closer.  
Steve smiled back up at him, ridiculously bright in the dark of the night.

_He was so, so beautiful._

_He was so, so beautiful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> come say hi on tumblr!  
> (nohalfway.tumblr.com)


	4. 18th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damn it

**Tuesday, 18th December**

Bucky was so, so glad that he’d taken his dad’s advice and didn’t have any 8 AM Monday classes, although, he did have one 8 AM, but at least it wasn’t on a Monday. He was especially glad when he was calmly eating his breakfast at half-past eight, scrolling through his Twitter feed, when a panicked Steve Rogers rushed in, hair in an absolute, ~~adorable~~ _ridiculous_ mess, odd socks, that may or may not have been Bucky’s, under unlaced Converse, unsuccessfully trying to put a jacket and a beanie on at the same time.

“Hey, hey, what’s the rush?” Bucky asked, getting up taking the beanie out of his hands so Steve could put his jacket on properly.

“I forgot that Erskine was gonna teach me how to do the business stuff of the shop today and the only client I have today is later in the afternoon,” Steve said in a rush, words spilling out of his mouth as fast as he could think of them.

Bucky, relatively used to an in-a-rush-Steve-Rogers, pressed a granola bar into his hand after straightened up after he finished tying his laces, _shut up about his ass when he bends over what the fuck Barnes._

“Thanks,” he said, slightly breathlessly, not realising how close they were, Bucky combed his fingers through Steve’s fringe, trying to smooth it out - _and holy shit, his hair was so soft_ \- and slipped the beanie on his head and let his hands rest on Steve’s shoulders.

Steve, mind flitting through what felt like a million things, did what felt the most natural: he stood on his tiptoes and softly kissed Bucky on the cheek.

He didn’t register what he did until he pulled away and looked into his wide eyes, _oh fuck_.

Suddenly the million different things flew out of his mind, and every single neuron in his brain focused solely on Bucky. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“I, uh, it’s, practice right,” Steve blurted out the first thing that came to mind, because _fuck, fuck, fuck, he couldn’t mess up this friendship, especially over something as trivial as unrequited feelings. Idiot, idiot, idiot_

He turned away, missing the quiet, “Yeah, right,” Bucky echoed after him and rushed out of the door.

Bucky tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, because of course, it was just practice, and it was his idea anyway.

He really fucking regretted it now.

* * *

Steve couldn’t focus at all, the numbers and the graphs on the computer screen swam in front of him, and none of anything Erskine told him was sinking in, his mind stuck on this morning, replaying it over and over on a loop.

“Rogers, where are you?” Erskine said, realising Steve wasn’t learning anything. Steve kept staring at the screen, “Uh, Nomad? Brooklyn, New York? The U.S.A? Nort-”  
Erskine cut him off with a small huff, and a wave of his hand, “Steven, look at me.”

Steve tore his eyes off the screen and looked at him, “I, I’m sorry,” he said, with a sigh, “I’ll-”

“Steven, how well doing you think you’re going to focus today?” he cut him off, getting straight to the point.

Steve swallowed, “I don’t know, I got some stuff and-”

“Take a break, go get some coffee or something,” Erskine said, cutting him off again and gently shutting the laptop screen.  
Steve took a breath, “Yeah, yeah, ok,” and got up to leave the office, but just before he closed the door, Erskine called out to him, “Get me a mocha!”

_Jesus, he needed to sort his shit out._

* * *

“Earth to Bucket, Earth to Bucket,” Kamala said, waving her hand in front of Bucky’s face.  
Bucky, shaking his head and snapping to attention, “Ohh, I really, _really_ regret telling you about that.”  
Kamala grinned, “I know, you tell me everytime I call you it, Bucket, anyway, what’s up?”  
Bucky huffed and shook his head, “Adult stuff, kid,” and ignoring the dignified squawk she gave, he got up, stretched and continued, “I’m going out to get some coffee, you want anything?”

She thought for a second, “Get me a gingerbread man,” and at Bucky’s disapproving look, “Please?”  
“That’s better,” he said, grinning and leaving the lab.

He couldn’t get this morning out of his head, he was so, so sure that Steve might like him as more as a friend, but ‘practice’ and _Steve_ just kept spinning around and around his head.

_Damn it, he really needed to get himself together._

* * *

Steve was waiting for his coffee, behind an old, white-haired man wearing an aviator jacket. He tapped his fingers impatiently against his thigh, mind wandering from Bucky’s stupid perfect smile, to his afternoon client, to Bucky’s stupidly nice abs, to what he might make for dinner today, to Bucky, to- “Steve?”

He snapped out of his thoughts when the barista called his name, collected the drinks and made to leave the shop when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and became face to face with the old, white-haired man in an aviator jacket.  
Steve saw that ‘Stan’ was scrawled across his coffee cup.

“Ah, stop being an idiot, go get him already,” he said, smiling at him before he turned and walked away.

_Okie dokie._

* * *

“Uh, one black coffee and a gingerbread man, please.” Bucky asked the barista who looked around 90? Eh, he wasn’t gonna judge him, maybe old people get bored, he wouldn’t know, despite all the jokes Kamala makes.

“Coming right up, kiddo,” he replied, smiling, “oh, and before I forget, get your head out of your ass, god knows the other guy ain’t gonna”

He wasn’t one to completely disregard insightful wisdom from his elders, (his mom raised him well) but… he wasn’t entirely sure what he was meant to do with that.

* * *

They were watching parks and recs reruns when Steve decided that he really didn’t want a repeat of this morning, mainly because he had a client pretty early tomorrow.  
He yawned and stretched and Bucky tried very, very hard to not stare at the thin strip of his stomach that was exposed when his shirt rode up, _bad Bucky, no, no, nope_.

“I’m gonna go to bed, g’night,” Steve said, getting up.  
“‘K,” Bucky said, refocusing on Chris Pratt, he’s had a long day, and it’s nice to shut off his brain for a bit “night, babe.”

_Oh shit._

“Uh, just practising.” _Saved it, maybe some more of his brain should have been online._

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly, _he isn’t disappointed, nope, shut up, not at all._

_Damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed, please leave comments and kudos!!
> 
> come say hi on tumblr: nohalfway


	5. 19th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tired baking fluff

**Wednesday 19th December**

Steve stress-baked, it was a habit he’d picked up from his Ma, who’d taught him how, the night before his first day of middle school when he couldn’t sleep, the night before his first day of school, the night before his SAT, and all the other nights he couldn’t sleep.  
Now, baking was always slightly bittersweet, it made him miss her, but she wouldn’t want him to mope and never make anything she taught him.  
So he stress-baked.

So Bucky was used to finding warm cookies and fruit filled muffins whenever he knew Steve was stressed or couldn’t sleep.

And that was how he’d found Steve, at three am, getting out the ingredients and spices for gingerbread, in sweats and shirt two sizes too big, no doubt pirated from Bucky.

“Oh, hey Buck, did I wake you up?” he asked, turning around to face him and _fuck, how could he look good at three am? No one looks good at three am. Except this pretty fucker apparently._  
He was cradling jars of spices in one arm and a wooden spoon and a bowl in another.

“Nah,” Bucky said, through a yawn, “I was just gonna get some water,” he moved to help Steve with his stuff, taking the jars and putting them next to the flour and sugar.

“You want help? Or company” He asked, after draining half a glass of water. _Do Not stare at his neck Rogers, no, nope, stop thinking about_ licking _him, Jesus._

Steve swallowed, “Uh, if you want, I’m making gingerbread,” and he bent down to get the milk out of the fridge. _Stop staring at his ass, oh my god._

Bucky thought for a second, glancing up at the clock, _and, oh, fuck it,_ “Yeah, I’ll stick around, what do you need me to do?” Steve got back up and looked at Bucky, staring into his eyes, he seemed to zone out for a second, but then he came out of it as fast as he’d gotten in. “Uh, mixing,” he said, finally.  
_How does someone look so, so earnest and… fuck. Fuck._

Steve pressed a wooden spoon into Bucky’s hand, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up when his fingers brushed his. _That Should Not Be A Thing, Rogers, c’mon._

“Mix as I put things in the bowl, can you handle that?” Steve teased, it was well established in their household that Bucky could not cook, they have the burn marks and a most definitely lost deposit to prove it.

Bucky smiled a little, “I think I can _handle_ it.”

Steve blinked up at him and snorted in disbelief, _this ~~adorable~~ dork_ “Oh my god, Buck, you’re a hundred I swear,”

“Yeah, well,” he replied, smile growing wider, and _fuck, if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’s seen all day,_ “you still laughed.”

Steve huffed and, unable to think of a proper insult, leaned his whole body against him to shove him.  
“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “hold the bowl down as well or everything’ll go everywhere.”

Bucky gave him a mock salute with his spoon, “Aye aye, captain.”

He held the bowl with his left hand and twirled the spoon in it with his right, watching Steve dumping various ingredients in it, he’d learned, over the years of living with him, that he never stuck with any rules or recipes, he pretty much eyeballed it all the base stuff and at the end put in spices and flavours he liked, Bucky thought it shouldn't work, whenever anyone else he knew cooked, they all pretty much stuck to the recipes, he knew his sister made sure everything was measured to the exact gram, but with Steve, he was pretty sure he didn't even own measuring cups, but it worked. It worked.

They were quiet for most of it, a hush settling over them, less of a shroud and more of a soft, warm blanket, safety, something to do with the time, he supposed and the practised familiarity of it, bumping elbows and standing maybe too close.

But neither of them made to move away, enjoying the closeness and the inherent intimacy of baking gingerbread at something past three, something to four am on a December morning, where the city outside their window was illuminated by a sliver of the moon peeking out of the clouds, yellow streetlights and white headlights and red taillights of taxi-cabs and cars, and their apartment, their home, was lit with soft, orange-tinged light, bouncing off the kitchen tiles and silver tools.  
It was cold outside, it was December in New York, if they were on the streets, they would be able to see their breaths, but in the warmth of their kitchen, made slightly warmer by the humming oven set to pre-heat, their breaths mingled, their heads millimeters, micrometers from touching, brown, tangled hair brushing against a blonde, disheveled fringe.

They rolled out the dough and cut it up using cookie cutters they found in the very back of their cupboards, nestled between an oddly small pan and a lemon juicer, and put them in the oven.

Steve shut the oven door, turning to smile tiredly at him, “You ok?” Bucky asked him, taking in the dark circles around his eyes, his slumped posture and his generally exhausted demeanour, “Yeah, just, tired, I might be coming down with something though” Steve replied, leaning against the counter.

Bucky immediately went to their medicine drawer and rummaged around until he found a mostly full bottle of NyQuil, and he took out a spoon. He poured out the medicine into the spoon, “Open up,” testament to just how tired he was, Steve uncharacteristically didn't try to argue. Instead, he followed his instructions and dropped his jaw, letting Bucky tip the contents of the spoon onto his tongue. “Remember to swallow,” Bucky murmured softly, turning to put the spoon in the dishwasher and the NyQuil back in the drawer.

When he turned back to face Steve, he wrapped him up in a hug, staying like that until Steve said something about the cookies, reluctantly moving from Bucky’s warm, soft embrace to grab a towel and take the gingerbread out of the oven and put the tray on top of a wooden chopping board on the counter.

They both flopped down onto the bar stools waiting in a comfortable silence until the gingerbread had cooled down a little.

Steve picked up a star-shaped piece and broke it in half, steam curling up towards the ceiling, he passed a half to Bucky.

They tapped the pieces together, “To Christmas,” Bucky said, quietly, not wanting to disturb their atmosphere, “To Christmas,” Steve echoed, taking a bite out of his half of the gingerbread star, Bucky copying him, a second slower.

And even though they both had Important Adult Things to do in the morning, or well, later in the morning, they couldn't think of anything better to do, or anyone else they'd rather be with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy!  
> tumblr: nohalfway


	6. 20th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bucky's day was shit, but steve made it better

**Thursday, 20th December**

In the morning, even though they were both running on way too little sleep, they couldn’t think of any regrets. Especially with a tupperware full of gingerbread on the counter. 

He woke up, washed up, stumbled to the kitchen and was greeted with a perfect, hot _~~Steve Rogers~~_ cup of coffee, given to him by an incredibly awake Steve Rogers, _was he magic? Probably._

Bucky grinned at him, too tired to school his face into something slightly less lovesick, _fuck Bucky was adorable in the mornings,_ and accepted the coffee, warm, calloused fingers brushing against long, pale ones, maybe lingering too long.

Steve cleared his throat, “Uh, the uh, NyQuil helped, last night, thanks,” he turned around, pretending to be busy with his cereal, _for fuck's sake, get it together Rogers._

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied, not taking his eyes off the back of his head, “you gotta take better care of yourself, y’know.”

Steve turned around, mostly composed, and smiled back at him, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both shovelling cereal into their mouths, _with definitely NOT PRETTY lips, nope,_ flicking through their phones and showing each other memes they found.  
It was nice.

_Stop thinking about morning kisses, Rogers, never gonna happen, nope._

_You’ll never wake up to him in your bed, Barnes, c’mon, get a grip._

But despite the relative ease of Bucky’s morning, probably as a direct result of Steve Rogers the rest of his day didn’t follow in suit.  
At all.

He stepped in gum on his way to the university, getting it stuck on the bottom of his shoe and in his laces, when he got to his class, thirty minutes late because he’d forgotten his ID, there was a notice blu-tacked to the door saying that it had been cancelled because his professor was ill, which, on any other day, _any other day,_ would be great, fucking _fantastic_ , even, but he desperately needed help on his assignment because he’d missed the last class and he had no idea what to do.

So he decided to go across campus to the labs to get in some hours, only to find that there was some sort of gas leak, _goddamn biologists_ , and that they were closed until who-knows-when because most people were off for the holidays come Friday.

Which reminded him of the twelve-hour road trip he was gonna take with Steve. Twelve hours in a four by four rental with a ridiculously beautiful man he may or may not have a crush on. Who’d he’d asked to be his fake boyfriend. Because he couldn’t think fast on his feet. _What an idiot._

And to top it off, it had started pouring it down pretty much the second he left his apartment and hadn’t stopped all day.

By the time he got home, laden with bags full of Christmas presents (and tape and wrapping paper, he highly doubted they had some) he wasn’t a happy bunny, as his mom was fond of saying, his shoes, somehow, got even more sticky and tacky and _disgusting_.  
That’s what he got for taking the subway, great! His hair was soaking wet, rainwater dripping into his eyes and down his neck, soaking his shirt, fantastic! And he forgot to take his keys, wonderful!

He rung all the bells at the apartment block door until someone opened it up and made it up to the top floor, by the stairs because of course the elevator was broken, and of course they lived up five stories (although, admittedly, it was probably worse for Steve).

Reaching their door, he kicked up the doormat, hoping the spare key was there. Nope.  
Giving up, he sighed and sat down, leaning against the door, stretching his legs out in front of him. He rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out sweet wrappers from… Halloween? an empty gum wrapper and his phone, maybe to call Steve, if he wasn’t busy, or if he was to play some mindless games Steve had got him addicted to, he didn’t want to handle any socials right now.

Dead. Why not, of course it was. Terrific!

He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, letting his mind run through everything he had to do, _FUCK_ , he still had to pack for tomorrow and rent a car and wrap presents and double check his fake-relationship malarkey with Steve, _god_ he couldn’t imagine the mortification if he’d fucked it up and they were caught out in a lie, or even worse, made his _feelings_ obvious to Steve and fuck up their friendship. 

At least he stil- _nope_ , he refused to jinx the one good thing about his day. He wasn’t a superstitious guy, generally, but he wasn’t risking it today. No siree.

He didn’t know how long he’d stayed like that, but his hair had gone from soaking to slightly damp when Steve, light of his fucking life, showed up, lucky dry-haired fucker. The rain must have stopped.

“Hey, Buck, you ok?” he dropped his bag and went to sit cross-legged in front of him, reaching out, against his better judgement, to cup his face in his hands.  
Without opening his eyes or moving his head, he replied, sarcasm cutting through tiredness, “Fucking peachy.” He could tell Steve rolled his eyes, call it his sixth sense; his Steve-sense.

Steve probably had a complimentary Bucky-sense, because he could tell that he was feeling sorry for himself, stressed and tired, not mad. He thought he knew him pretty well in that sense because he was right. 

“Ok, time to get up,” Steve said, getting up himself then tugging at Bucky’s arms in an attempt to pull him up, he knew how to do this. 

It took them a good minute to get everything into their apartment but they managed, and Steve set out to make Bucky feel better. They flopped on the couch, and he asked Bucky what he needed to do, and he rattled off the list, working himself up, then calming down when Steve ran his fingers through his hair, a repetitive, soothing motion, grounding him. 

“Ok,” Steve started, calmly, after Bucky finished, “you go have a shower while I’ll sort out the rental, then pack and then we’ll watch a movie and wrap presents, sound good?”

Bucky nodded, staying on the couch, Steve’s fingers running through his hair, for a minute. He took a breath and got up, “Yeah, yeah, ok, I’ll go do that, thanks.”

Steve smiled up at him, “Anytime.”

* * *

_Fuck he was hot,_ Steve stuttered through the last lines of his call, thoroughly distracted by the _masterpiece_ in front of him, dressed in sweatpants and only sweatpants, his slightly wet torso exposed to ~~Steve~~ the elements and his hair a tangled wet mess.

_Shut up, stop thinking about him in a shower, for fuck’s sake Rogers._

“Hey,” he said, once he trusted himself to talk without his voice cracking, he waved his phone at Bucky, “I sorted out the rental and,” he pushed a cup of hot cocoa towards him, “cocoa.”

Bucky grinned at him, cradling the mug in his hands, against his _~~naked~~_ chest, “You’re the best.”

Steve grinned back, “I know, anyway, presents and The Martian-”

Bucky froze on his way to the living room, and spluttered, “The Martian’s not a Christmas film, Stevie, put on Home Alone-”

Steve huffed, “Yeah but we already watched Home Alone this year.”

Bucky, knowing that Steve could probably argue his way out of a Nazi base (probably after trying to punch himself out) decided to end it there and then, “John Mulaney.”

Five minutes later, they were sitting on the floor, surrounded by wrapping paper, bows, labels, Christmas cards and popcorn with The Comeback Kid playing on the TV.

Steve was wrapping presents and sticking bows on them, and Bucky was writing out cards, their unwrapped gifts and blank cards pile was growing steadily smaller and smaller, inversely proportional to their ‘done’ pile.

By the end of the special they were done, Kid Gorgeous had started and Bucky had dragged a blanket off the couch and wrapped both of them in it, Steve leaned against him, thigh to thigh and shoulder to well, about mid-bicep, and Bucky slid an arm around his shoulders, his insides melting apart when Steve leaned further into him.

Steve tried to calm his racing heart because Bucky was shirtless and he could feel _everything_ under his hands, his abs tensing when he laughed and _fuck_ he was beautiful when he laughed, joy radiating from his face.

Yeah, Bucky’s day had gone pretty shit, but he’d started and ended it fairly good, most definitely as a direct result of Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy!  
> please leave comments and kudos so i know y'all actually like like it lmao  
> tumblr:nohalfway


	7. 21st Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> roadtrip (+ probably too may easter eggs/cameos)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, there's 4 cameos/cameo groups of people/easter eggs. see if you can get them all!
> 
> i hope you enjoy

**Friday, 21st December**

“Come on Stevie-boy, up and at ‘em,” Bucky declared, throwing open Steve’s curtains and tearing back his covers, revealing an annoyed Steve Rogers clad in sweats and a pirated-from-Bucky hoodie. He threw his arm over his eyes, tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve.  
_Stop thinking about kissing every single tattoo he has, god, Barnes._

“No.” Steve pouted, with pink-pink lips, voice rough and hoarse from disuse over the night. Bucky rolled his eyes, fondly, he knew exactly how to get him out of bed (his problems were getting Steve _into_ bed. With him.).

“Stevie, I got you a caramel frap-” his reaction was almost comical: he shot up like a man possessed and made grabby-hands in the general vicinity of Bucky’s voice, god knows how bad his, eyesight was. Bucky, in what was not a good move for his ~~crush~~ _admiration,_ picked up Steve’s glasses from next to a day-old glass of water and slid them onto his face, an incredibly bad move because somehow, it had slipped his mind just how good Steve looked in glasses. Because _damn_ Steve looked good in his glasses.

He hadn’t noticed that they’d gotten closer until Steve blinked up at him, “Hi.”

Bucky swallowed but didn’t move back, “Hey, Stevie,”

“Where’s my coffee?”

Bucky laughed, ducking his head and grinning at him, “Kitchen, your highness,” and Steve pouted again, _~~adorably,~~_ “Too far,” he said, decidedly and made to flop back onto his mattress but Bucky, in one swift move, grabbed his arms and pulled him forwards and off the bed. Steve stumbled forwards, into Bucky’s chest.  
_He was muscly and he smelled nice._

Steve, not being a morning person, at all, and it being fucking six am, the sun barely above the horizon and because he hadn’t had any coffee, wasn’t thinking especially straight.  
As if he could be _straight_ anywhere near Bucky.

And also not fully aware of what he was doing. Or what he was saying.

Meaning he’d said that Bucky was muscly and smelled nice _out loud.  
FUCK._

But Bucky just laughed, _it was early, Steve had no idea what he was saying,_ and tried to tamp down the hope that maybe he actually believed it. He told him to thank his gym membership and Axe. He also told Steve to get dressed and because he needed to go and get the rental, while Bucky took their bags and the presents down ~~twenty million~~ _five_ flights of stairs to ground level because he refused to give Steve an asthma attack.

Even if it meant that the roads of New York were going to be slightly more dangerous because a one Steve Rogers drove like an absolute fucking maniac.  
Maybe the road trip wasn’t the best idea in that sense, but Steve absolutely refused to step on a plane.

Twenty minutes later, Steve was dressed, his coffee had been drunk, and he’d headed out in the pale, early morning, barely-there winter light to go to the warehouse.  
Meaning Bucky had about half an hour to go to the art shop, King, on the edge of Brooklyn run by an old Jewish guy, Jack Kirby, that Steve loved.  


When he got there, he went in search for the set markers he’d seen Steve linger over the last time they were there, eventually picking brushes and some other things that he’d desperately needed to replace over the markers.

He found them and took them over to the counter, Jack, the owner, greeted him with a friendly smile, they came there pretty often, “Ah, Bucky, it’s good to see you, how’s your boy?” and at Bucky’s confused look, “Steve, skinny little blonde guy,”

“Ohh, uh, we’re not, we’re not together, I mean, we’re still friends, but we’re not _together_ -together, y’know?”

Jack cut off his rambling with a _look_ , the very specific look relatively elderly people give to younger people when they're being particularly oblivious and/or stupid. “Ok, it’s ok, you two always were slow. Anyway, this is for him, yes?”

“Yeah, Christmas present,” a million things flowing through his head, the guy was probably just saying vague, broad, non-applicable to Bucky’s life, statements, the way relatively old people did sometimes.  
But, could it mean something?  
_Probably not._

“You want it wrapped?” Bucky nodded, pulling out his wallet to pay.

Just as he was about to leave, Jack called out, “Don’t give up on him,” and under his breath, that Bucky just about caught, but maybe misheard, “They’re happy in this one, no alien shit, but still not together, morons”

Yeah, he probably misheard.

* * *

He managed to get home in time to take everything down, the subway ride and walk clearing his head, and greet Steve, who pulled up by their apartment block.  
They put everything in the boot and slammed it shut, the resounding bang barely making a dent in the soundscape of the city.

Steve held out a hand, loosely curled into a fist, “Rock, paper, scissors who drives first.”

Steve won. He grinned and made his way to the passenger side of the car and slid in. Bucky just chuckled under his breath and got into the driver's seat.

Steve had already gotten comfortable, feet up on the dash and fiddling with his phone, connected to the car’s Bluetooth, on Spotify. Bucky set up google maps, and just as they were about to drive off, Steve stopped him, “Wait,” he tapped a couple more things on his phone, “ok...GO!”

He drove off to ‘Fairytale of New York’, and at his confused look, Steve waved his phone, “Shuffle.”  
Sure why not.  
_Just chance._

They drove in silence, the car filled with Christmas songs from Steve’s playlist, he spent most of the drive sleeping or messing around on his phone.

He was napping when Bucky woke him up, this time by tapping incessantly on his face. “Wakey-wakey Stevie, we’re at a service station,” Steve, without opening his eyes mumbled, “Get me coffee, surprise me,” and slid further down in his seat.  
“‘Kay, but you’re driving now, so stay awake,” Bucky said, getting out of the car and going into the Starbucks.

Steve stayed as he was for another minute before getting out, stretching, taking a deep breath and getting into the driver’s side. He leaned over the console to get his smaller, A5 sketchbook and a mechanical pencil. He doodled out some ideas, most of them vague concepts, a couple of things that could go in his portfolio.

Exhausted out of ideas, he dated the page and flipped to another one. drawing out ridiculously familiar shapes, tracing out long, curved lines, and short flicks, eventually forming Bucky’s grinning face, his hair up in a man bun, some of it falling out, framing his face.  
_God, he was so whipped._

He saw Bucky walking back, holding two coffees and a bag of cookies, out of the corner of his eye, quickly flipping the page back and pretending to shade and render some of the ideas. 

Bucky slid into the passenger seat, handed him his coffee and settled into the same position Steve was in, legs bent at the knee, a was significantly taller than Steve, after all. To the average straight and/or tall person, it might seem uncomfortable, but, as literally, everyone else knows; it was very comfortable.

As soon as Steve finished his coffee (peppermint mocha, he was pleasantly surprised), they were off, driving for another three hours, this time with Bucky napping. 

He woke up just before Steve pulled into a Denny’s, “You couldn’t find anything better?”  
Steve pouted _~~adorably~~_ , “I want Denny’s,” 

“No one in the history of ever has ever wanted Denny’s. Ever.” Bucky said, incredulously, “next place, c’mon.”  
Steve looked over at him and then the Denny’s in front of him. He put the car into reverse and pulled out to Bucky’s cheers, _god he was adorable._

It took them a couple of minutes until they found a diner, that looked like it was straight out of the 50s. Steve gave Bucky a look, “Good enough?”  
He grinned and nodded, “Yup,” he paused for a moment, thinking, “hey, Stevie, do you think we should do some more dating practice, I mean, according to Riverdale, diners are meant to be romantic.”  
_Dating practice? wtf Barnes!_

“I can’t believe you’re going off Riverdale for romantic ideas, but yes, honey, let’s go have lunch,” Steve said, slipping easily into the role, the pet name falling naturally from his lips, _not that he’d been thinking about this since way too long._

They walked into the diner, hands linked, swinging slightly between them. The bell rang out clearly in the pretty quiet diner, there were three pretty big guys, maybe mid-thirties in one corner booth and what looked like a college-aged couple on a date, the way the guy looked at his girl, like she held up his world, and the way the girl looked at him, like he’d saved her from hell, they both looked like they would go to hell and back for each other and although Bucky was pretty sure they were about pre-grad aged, they both looked like they’d been through shit.  
He hoped that they were happy.

“Babe? Earth to Bucko, Bucky?” Steve waved his hand in front of his face, jerking him out of his thoughts, “what d’ya want?”  
Bucky, eloquent as always, “Uh,” he looked down at Steve, who was smiling softly at him, eyes filled with laughter, _fuck, he was beautiful._

Bucky kept looking down at Steve, unable to tear his eyes away from him, _he wasn’t even doing anything spectacular special? How… why..._

“Oh. My. God. they’re useless, abso-fucking-lutely completely and utterly shit-stinkingly useless.”  
Bucky was snapped out of his thoughts for the second time in a minute, but this time by a guy in a red and black mask and a matching suit with... swords? strapped to his back. 

“Hey, buddy, you got lost on the way to comic-con?” _Oh no._

Steve had turned around and was glaring up at him, but the guy just laughed, “Aw, that’s just fucking adorable, small fry, good to see that’s still the sam-” he got interrupted by a middle-aged, kinda jacked guy with a metal arm, who also looked like he should be at comic-con, the middle-aged guy grumbled about needing to keep ‘Wade’ (he assumed that was the red guy’s name) on a dog leash and pulled him out of the diner, much to Wade’s dismay.

Steve was still angry, so he did what any good fake boyfriend would do, he slipped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Even though he knew it was for show, the way all of Steve’s anger dissipated and the way he leaned into Bucky, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just possibly if any of it was _just_ for show.

“I’ll just get you boys the same thing, go grab a booth, it’ll be there in five minutes.”  
They were broken out of their little bubble by the waitress, they nodded and made their way to a window booth, sliding in opposite each other. 

“So, that was strange,” Steve said, leaning across the counter, resting on his elbows. Bucky mimicked him, so they ended up incredibly close, unintentionally, of course.  
“Yeah, but strange people are everywhere, there would’a been twenty strange people at the Denny’s,”  
“Yeah, I know but-” 

“Here are your burgers, boys and a shake, on the house, to share, young love like yours is something to be celebrated.” They were interrupted by the waitress placing a tray on the table and a vanilla shake, topped with whipped cream and a flake, with two straws.

They both turned, grinned at her, and said “Thanks,” in a creepy sort of synchronisation. She just chuckled under her breath, well used to couples like them.  
“You’re welcome, enjoy now,” she said warmly, walking away back behind the counter.

They both turned back to each other, yeah, they could sell it.

* * *

The rest of their drive passed without any more strange people, although Steve’s perceptions of strange were wildly different to Bucky’s, Steve spent most of his time stabbing people with needles (and not in the life-saving way) on various body parts and Bucky spent most of his time astrophysics-ing at a university.

But even he would say that during the rest of their drive, they didn’t meet any strange, probably-got-lost-on-the-way-to-comic-con people.

It passed in a haze of Christmas songs, a blur of cities and fractions of conversations about Bucky’s family and before they knew it, the hours had flown by, and Bucky was pulling up to his parents’ house.

“You scared?” Bucky asked, turning to Steve, who shrugged,  
“Do I got any reason to be?”  
Bucky grinned at him, “Nope,”

“Let’s get this bread.”

* * *

The second they knocked on the door, it burst open, and Bucky was gathered into his mom’s arms, to her utterances of “It’s been too long,” and “You look tired,” and “You work too hard.” 

She eventually let him go, after he said: “Mom, mom, this is Steve, my boyfriend, remember I told you about him.”  
She turned towards him “Ohh, it’s nice to meet you, Steve, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Steve shot a look to Bucky, who just shrugged in return.

“Uh, it’s, uh, good to meet you too Mrs. Barnes.” Steve said, suddenly nervous. Bucky’s mom just laughed and pulled him into a hug as well.

“Call me Winnie, dear, or mom,” she said, winking, laughing at them when they turned red, Bucky sputtering and trying to say something about ‘holding off the wedding bells’.

After they’d calmed down, Bucky slid an arm around Steve’s shoulders, kissing him softly on his temple when he leaned into him. Bucky’s mom smiled at them and told them to put their stuff in Bucky’s old room. 

“And no funny business in there,” she called after them, laughing at them when they turned red and sputtered again.

Yeah, he’s gonna marry him, she knows her boy well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it!!
> 
> tumblr:nohalfway


	8. 22nd Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will probs have errors, also im going away soon so there might not be any/ v slow updates from monday to next monday

**Saturday, 22nd December**

Steve officially met some of Bucky’s nieces and nephews the next morning, when he’d stumbled downstairs after being woken up by Bucky. He’d tried not to think too, much about how they’d ended up cuddling in their sleep, there being only one bed, because of course there would be, they’re _dating_ , mantra of _fake, fake, fake_ going over and over in his head. But he’d gotten downstairs, dressed and showered, and was greeted by Bucky pushing a cup of coffee into his hands. He stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, gotta keep up the appearance, no other reason,“Thanks babe.” 

The words came ridiculously easily, as if he’s been saying it for years. Maybe they were better actors than they were giving themselves credit for.   
“Aw,” Bucky’s mom cooed, “you two are adora-”   
She was cut off by a five, six and seven year old running full speed into the kitchen, screaming. They collided into Bucky, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-Sorry Bucko-AHH-wait who are you?” 

The three kids gazed up at Steve, who glanced at Bucky for help, but he just crammed a pancake into his mouth and shrugged, leaving Steve to explain.   
“Uh,” he grabbed Bucky’s hand and laced their fingers together, swinging their clasped hands up to show them, “Bucky’s boyfriend, Steve.”   
Bucky, finished with his pancake, swung his arm across Steve’s shoulders and ducked down to kiss his cheek, “Yup.”

They blinked up at them for a few seconds, before a resounding chorus of “Cool” and “‘Kay” and the ran off, screaming again.

* * *

Later, when Steve and Bucky were playing video games and everyone else had gone to the nearby park, except Winnie, Seb, who didn’t want to go and Seb’s mom, Bucky’s oldest sister, Georgie, who was feeling ill, Seb had come into the living room, a ridiculous amount of felt-tips balanced precariously in his arms, “Uh, Steve, Bucky said that your’n tattoo artist, can you tattoo me?”

They paused their game and Steve turned to face him, after glancing at Bucky, “Did Geor-your mom say you can?”   
Seb nodded, “Mommy said to only use the markers that says ‘wa-sha-bel’ onnit.”   
Steve turned to Bucky, to confirm, “Yeah that sounds like Georgie,” he said, swapping over the game for Splatoon - Bucky refused to be the one that exposed his nephew to gore and violence. And it was mindless enough to play and pay attention to Steve and Seb.

“What do you want?” Steve asked him, finding a pale grey felt tip, double checking that it was the washable type. Seb rattled off what sounded like a million ideas, ridiculously fast, words overlapping, but Steve managed to follow it all, nodding along. He probably had two full sleeves planned out for him, based on the face he was making.

By the time Bucky had finished (and won) two turf wars, Steve had Seb’s short-sleeve rolled all the way up under his armpit and was laying out some very rudimentary shapes along his left arm with the pale grey marker. Seb suddenly spoke up, “Why don’t you wear rings like mommy and daddy do and like gramma and grappa do?” 

Steve’s marker stilled on his skin and Bucky’s hand slipped on the controller, accidentally exiting the game, _Bucky didn’t warn him about this,_ “Uh-”  
“We’re, uh, not married, kiddo,” Bucky said, as smoothly as he could.   
“So what?” Seb challenged, to him, people who loved each other wore rings for each other, so why didn’t Uncle Bucky?

This time, Steve spoke up, “Only married people wear rings-” only to be interrupted by Seb,  
“But don’t you love each other? People who love each other wear matching rings, Mommy said so.”  
“Uh,” _Oh fuck._ He couldn’t answer that and not giving his feelings away, Bucky could spot a lie from him from a million miles away. And he just couldn’t risk it, he was just fine with an unrequited, never-to-be-addressed crush.  
“Uh.” _Oh fuck._ He couldn’t see Steve lie about loving him, he knew that he didn’t, why would he? But it would be a knife to the heart to hear him lie about it, which Steve would be able to tell that that had hurt him, and he would end up knowing. And he just couldn’t risk that, he was absolutely fine with an unrequited, never-to-be-addressed crush.

Steve, thinking quickly, “Uh, Seb, what colour do you want the star?” Seb, in the way most six-year-olds do, flipped his focus quickly, digging through the pile of markers holding up a bright red one, “This one,” and when Steve didn’t respond, eyes locked with Bucky’s, communicating a million questions, far too vulnerable, he tapped him on the shoulder, jerking him out of it. Whatever _it_ was.

Steve quickly got to work, as focused as he would be on an actual client, talking to Seb the whole time, about the colours, why he was using them, how the random shapes would form his favourite characters on his right arm and a shiny metal arm on his left. 

Bucky ended up abandoning his game to watch Steve and Seb, _Steve was good with kids, he would make a good father, and probably a good husband.  
...  
What the literal actual fuckity heck, Barnes. Stop it._

* * *

After an hour,with Home Alone playing in the background, Steve was done, adding some very final details and, at Seb’s insistence, signed his name on both arms, because, “that’s what Bob does on his painting show,” and, well, who was he to argue a six-year-old’s logic. After that, Seb had run off to show his mom, and then ran around the whole house, waving both arms around, eager to show off his new ‘tattoos’.

Steve leaned back, against the couch, next to Bucky, “He was way, way better than most of my clients, didn’t complain, wasn’t drunk and he stayed still. Amazing,” he mumbled the last word through a yawn, _STOP staring at his neck, for the last time, Barnes, Jesus._

“Hey, Stevie, you ever want kids?” Bucky asked, staring straight ahead at the screen in front of them, he was nervous but they weren’t even in a relationship.   
Steve turned to look at him, “Maybe, yeah, you?”

Bucky finally turned to face Steve, “Yeah, probably.” _With you._


	9. 23rd Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a grilling. Winnie Barnes is incredibly overprotective

**Sunday, 23rd December**

 

They were finishing dinner, all the kids already in bed, and Steve was debating with Adam about something to do with baseball - Bucky never really got into it, he was more of a basketball fan anyway. He pulled up his hoodie (stolen from Bucky, again) sleeves to show him the insides of his elbows, a row of baseball stitches on each one. _Barnes, don’t you DARE think about it, not the time._

Adam put his hands up in surrender, “Ok, ok, I concede, you win.”  
Steve looked over at Bucky in triumph, but he just shrugged in return, “Stevie, you know I had no clue what you were on about,” Steve just in return and shoved him lightly, or at least, tried to, Bucky didn’t budge at all, instead slid an arm around him, and pulled him closer, _just for the show._

Steve quickled did a pro/con analysis in his mind, and, _yeah, the pros outweigh the cons_ and leaned comfortably into Bucky, snuggling under his arm, “Yeah, I know, babe.” Bucky picked up some of his ice-cream on his spoon and brought it up to Steve’s lips, “Forgive me?”

Steve leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon and ate the ice-cream. Bucky gently tugged to spoon away as Steve swallowed, he smiled up at him softly, _just an act, remember it’s just an act,_ “Yeah, you’re forgiven.”

Bucky smiled down at him, “Good.”

They startled out of their trace when Becca cleared her throat, “Are you done, James Buchanan?” He threw a stray pea at her, much to his mother’s chagrin, “You are _adults,_ James, Rebecca, stop it.”  
“Sorry, mom,”  
“Yeah, sorry, mom,”

There was a quick passing moment of silence, then Steve spoke up, to Bucky, “Your name is Buchanan? Like the president?” Bucky pulled back a little, so he could face him,  
“You didn’t know? I thought Tony told you?”  
“No?” Steve said, incredulously, “He told me that you were hot, kinda a nerd and gay.”

Bucky scoffed, none of those were true, “None of that is true!”  
Steve blinked up at him, “Babe, all of those are true,” and when Bucky made to interrupt him, “no, no, don’t even-”  
“Hot?”  
“Have you looked in a mirror? Your-” he waved his hands around, gesturing to his face and his body, “-everything!”  
“A nerd?”  
“Babe, what are you doing a master’s in?”  
He tipped his head from side to side and accepted it, “Yeah, yeah, ok, but gay? Not 100%”

Steve rolled his eyes, smiling, “Babe, c’mon, Troye Sivan and Oscar Wilde have nothing on you,” and at his disagreeing huff, Steve kissed his cheek, “What about now?” he teased, batting his eyes in a completely shameless ploy - and they both knew it. But Bucky just grinned back, “Sure, baby.” _All for the show, nothing else._

This time they were interrupted by Scott, who was nudging Georgie, “Aww, our baby brother’s all grown up.” He also got a stray pea thrown at him.  
“James!” his mom reprimanded, again, “anyway, Steve, what was it you said you did?” _Oh no._

All eyes turned to them, conversations dropping sharply off.

“Uh, I’m a tattoo artist,” Bucky stroked his shoulder with his thumb, hopefully calming him, his mom was ridiculously overprotective of him, him being her youngest child. 

His mom gave Steve a scanning look, as if she could discern every single thing he’s ever done in his 24 years of life, “How are you trained, collage or…” 

“Um, in the shop, I went to collage for uh, half the time and then, uh, yeah,” Steve was trying to look anywhere but at her. 

“Hmm, ok then, but you went to high school for the whole time, right?” 

“Yup” _Thank god, an easy question._

“What do you do for fun, Steve?” he heard Scott mutter ‘Bucky’ under his breath and saw his girlfriend elbow him to shut up.

“Uh, art.”

“But don’t you do art all day?”

“Yeah, but it’s, uh different.”

“Ok then, where do you see yourself in five years?”

 _Five years? He barely knows what he’s gonna do next week!_ “Uh, maybe manager of Nomad, and,” he glanced quickly at Bucky, _Fuck it,_ “married.”  
From the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky go through a range of emotions, eventually settling on happy, he bent down and kissed his forehead, whispering “good one” into his ear.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, tamping down the existential crisis coming from how her youngest might get married in the next five years _oh god._  
“How many other relationships have you been in?”

 _Oh, we are stopping there._  
“ _Mom,_ stop,” Bucky said, he was glad he had told her about his parents already, he really didn’t want to be there for that awkward conversation, and he didn’t want her to scare him away, even though they _weren’t even dating for real, get a grip Barnes._

“Dear, I’m only making sure he’s good enough for you,” she said, as he turned red and the rest of his siblings laughing at him. Steve stroked a hand through his hair, letting him bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. Bucky’s dad, George, told Winnie to lay off him, and then murmuring something in her ear no one could quite catch, but she just smiled and patted him on the arm, and then asked Georgie and Scott to help her with the dishes, telling everyone else to go entertain themselves. 

Bucky pulled Steve upstairs, to his room, flipping Adam off when he told them “No funny business, you two.” 

He flopped down on the bed, Steve next to him, “I’m sorry about her, she’s kinda over protective,” Steve just laughed, “It’s fine, just wants the best,”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

* * *

“So,” Winnie started, drying a glass, “what do you think of him?”  
Georgie and Scott glanced at each other, Steve seemed to be a pretty cool guy, and by the way they looked at each other, even a blind man would be able to tell they’re in love.  
They told her as much, “Do you think he’s going to break his heart?” she asked, turning to face them, abandoning the still wet dishes.

They turned to each other again, if he did, they were going to give him a slow and painful death, nevermind the asthma, “Mom, you can’t tell right away,” started Georgie, only to be interrupted by Winnie, “Yes, but wasn’t I right about what's-his-face?” Georgie rolled her eyes, she had been right, but she was certain that with Bucky and Steve it was the real deal, he was gonna marry that boy someday. 

“Fine, Mom,” Scott cut in, “what do you think?” He wanted his little brother to be happy, of course he did, and he was certain, by the way they spoke about each other, and to each other, that they were in love, and they weren’t going to fall out of it. 

Winnie seemed to be considering for a bit, plunged deep in thought, seconds passed that felt like hours, both of them awaiting her results, even though they weren’t even the two in question.

“I think,” she said, finally, “I think that he really loves him, both of them do.”

* * *

Steve went downstairs for a glass of water, he was filling up a glass when George approached him,  
“Steve, I can tell that you love him, a lot, and that he loves you too, they way you two look at each other, it’s, you really can’t fake that sort of thing. You’re good to him, he’s, he’s happy with you, more so than any other boyfriend of his he’s been with. Stay good to him and we won’t have a problem, we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he resisted the urge to salute, “I’m not leaving him until he wants me to and,” he swallowed, suddenly finding his glass very interesting, “I really do love him.” 

George patted him on the shoulder, “I know, son, now go back to him, we don’t want him thinking I’ve gone and put you in hole in the backyard.”

* * *

They were lying in bed, both staring at the ceiling, the whole one bed thing didn’t really bother them, they’d shared a bed millions of times before, usually when the heating was broken in their apartment, on the incredibly ill-advised road trip when they were twenty and barely knew each other, that one time everyone decided to go camping. They made a pact to never speak of The Camping Incident, and none of them even wanted to _think_ about it.

They ended up cuddling in the night, but neither of them minded, so neither of them said anything, it was nice, to be so close with someone you would never truly have. 

“So,” Steve started, in a whisper, he knew Bucky was still awake, but he didn’t want to speak at normal volumes, not wanting to disturb the peace that only came with night time, “your dad told me that we can’t fake this, as in, it’s ‘true love’,” _is it? Do you? Are you?_

Bucky Did Not want to follow through with his conversation, if Steve found out why… he, he can’t even _think_ of what would happen, he couldn’t live without him, in some way or another, even if it meant suppressing his feelings over losing him. 

So he made a joke, a bad, bad joke, but a joke nonetheless, “I guess The Notebook has another thing coming.”

He heard Steve swallow and then a quiet “Yeah, I guess it does,” he turned his back on Bucky, stayed there for a few seconds, and then sat up, “I, I’m gonna go outside for a bit.”

Bucky glanced over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, 23:51 glaring back at him.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> little warning, next couple chapters are gonna be typed up on my phone so please excuse any errors :)
> 
> thanks for reading!


	10. 24th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they...stop being idiots
> 
> listen to fairytale of new york w this one if u wanna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy christmas eve!!

**Monday, 24th December**

 

Bucky went to find Steve when the clock turned over to midnight, a row of zeros lining the LED screen for a split second, long enough for him to make up his mind and get out of bed and go outside

He found Steve swinging on the swing bench in the garden, gazing up at the stars, an unreadable look on his face. He stepped off the patio and walked a little down the garden and sat down next to him, “You good?”

Steve sighed and tilted his head further back, “Yeah, yeah…” _Did he want to be alone? He should go-_  
He closed his eyes and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing along his neck, and he said in a small voice, almost a whisper,  
“Tell me about the stars.”

And he did, he told him about every single constellation he knew, about the stories behind them, the myths and legends people long ago believed to be true. He told him about the astrology signs, even though they both thought they were bullshit, he told him about how they came about, why so many people want to believe in them.  
He told him about Canis Major, Canis Minor, the Orion Belt, the Oort Cloud, Halley’s comet, neutron stars, solar flares and meteor showers  
He told him about Sirius, his favourite star, the brightest star. 

An hour passed, maybe two, during the time, steve had looked down from the sky and was now staring at Bucky.  
_All the stars could go out, every single one, and it would be fine, because Bucky was enough._

“-and th- wait what?” _Was he imagining it or…_

 _Oh, shit, he’d said that out loud?_ “I, it’s, uh, yo-”

“Steve what did you say,” _Please be real, he can’t, it’s, him, please-_

“Nothing.” _You idiot, idiot moron shit weasel fuck fuck fuck._

“No, no, you can’t, not tell me, you said-”

Steve shot out of the seat, turning to Bucky, “If you know what I said, why did you ask?” _Fuck, fuck, he’s gonna lose everything._

They heard a couple soft notes of music coming from somewhere, _Fairytale of New York._

_Huh, ironic, but also, it was midnight? Who..?_

Bucky stood up and, when Steve turned away, gently caught his elbow, and tugged him so he was facing him. Steve looked up at him, a million emotions showing in his eyes, hurt, embarrassment, the urge to hide, vulnerability, and a tiny, tiny glimmer of hope. “Steve,-”

“I’m sorry, it’s, I’ll get the next train out of town, just,” he looked down and swallowed, trying to get the words out, “you mean, so, so much to me. And I can’t ask you, I know I can’t, ask to still- for us to still be-”

“Steve, you’re everything to me.”

Steve’s head shot up, making eye contact with Bucky, searching his face, _was he- did he mean it?_

This time, his eyes were filled with hope, bright enough to out-shine Sirius, but still with a hint of disbelief and trepidation, “Do you mean it?”

Bucky moved closer, tentatively resting a hand on Steve’s waist, slow enough for him to move away if he wanted.  
He stayed where he was and slid his hands up ro rest on Bucky’s neck, slowly. As a result of that, Bucky’s hand fell from Steve’s elbow to his hip.

“Yes,” he whispered, they could see it, his breath floating between them, and then up towards the sky.  
They looked at each other, hope and love reflected in their eyes, and leaned in.

They kissed softly, warm mouths and soft lips, for a long time, before pulling away, because ‘air’, Steve’s lips were even more pink, and Bucky couldn’t help himself, he ducked down and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away again, although, barely, their faces were hardly millimeters away, their breaths mingling.

“Does that mean, we’re real boyfriends?” Steve asked, hands sliding up into Bucky’s hair, who grinned, widely and nodded slightly, “Yeah, Stevie, yeah.”

“And all the stuff, we could’a been doin’ it for real,” Steve was slipping into his Brooklyn accent more and more, as he spoke faster and faster.

Bucky was grinning so wide, it felt like the corners of his mouth were touching his eyes, “Yeah, Stevie,”

Suddenly Steve turned shy, fingers fiddling in Bucky’s hair, “Y’know the, uh, pet name thing, you don’t have to if it was just for… y’know, but, can, can that still happen?” 

Bucky kissed him softly, only having to tilt his head a couple degrees, “Sure can, doll.” He smiled and pressed his lips against Steve’s again when he blushed at the name.

They stood there, trading kisses, fingers drawing small patterns on skin, for some time, long enough for the music to turn off, from wherever it was coming from, even though they didn’t realise it had gone for a couple minutes, entirely wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, Bucky noticed Steve shivering in his hood, “Let’s get back to bed, sugar” he murmured, taking Steve back to the house, holding his hand the whole way. Steve hoped the dark his his blush.  
It didn’t, _he was adorable._

He could say that now.

 _He could say that now!_

“Steve, Stevie,” he stopped abruptly just in front of the door, the soft lights from the living room highlighting his face. It made his hair look like it was spun from gold, his eyes even brighter and bluer in contrast, it highlighted his cheekbones and his ridiculous jawline, it made his lips look pinker and, even more prettier.  
_He loved him._

He pressed a kiss to his stupid pretty lips, “Baby, it’s probably way too early, but I’ve been in- you’ve been everything to me for longer than I wanna admit, I-“

“I love you too,” 

He fell silent, a smile stretching across his face, “Actually,” _oh fuck he got that Very Very Wrong abort miss-_ “I was gonna ask you to move in with me.” 

Steve looked up at him, laughter filled his face, eyes crinkling, a beautiful smile across his face, a couple of strands of hair had fallen from his bun, softening his face. _God he was beautiful._

“You _ass_ ,” and despite that, he leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss him. When they broke apart, breathing a little too hard, just from a kiss (Steve has asthma, that was his excuse, _nothing else_ , but Bucky’s ran 10Ks, what’s his?)  
Bucky pressed a kiss to his cheek, not trusting himself to stop if he kissed him properly again, “I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too.”

Bucky sputtered, “I-You can’t say it last,” he kissed Steve again, and when he pulled away, noses still bumping, he whispered “I love you.”  
Steve grinned and darted to the side to kiss the corner of his mouth, “I love you.” 

“Shut up, I love you,” he kissed Steve’s jaw, and he looked up at Bucky with a challenge flaring up in his eyes, 

“Make me.” 

_Oh fuck,_ that ignited a - _something_ \- deep within Bucky. _God_ , he was gonna be the death of him.

* * *

When they were back in bed, only because Winnie had told them to, with a baseball bat raised because “why else would the flood light be on outside?” than a crazy axe murderer, and Steve was lying pretty much on top of him, head on his chest, legs tangled together, and an arm, slightly possessively across his torso, Bucky had a hand in his hair and another resting lightly on his hip. 

Steve said, or, well, slurred really, “We could’a been doin’ this for a year,” and, added as a result of no filter whatsoever (it was late, he was tired, Bucky was comfortable, give him a break), a little petulantly and pouting, “you could’a been doin’ me for a year.” 

Bucky spluttered, while Steve smiled sleepily at him, _the death of him_ , and, he thought, suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness, Steve already asleep, tracing pattern across his hip, for him, for him, he would go easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thanks for reading! any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	11. 25th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> christmas day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry crisis!  
> [nsfw warning for the start]

**Tuesday, 25th December**

Bucky woke up to Steve kissing along his jaw and down his throat, _awesome way to wake up._  
Without opening his eyes, he brought his hand up into Steve’s hair, gently playing with it, he carried on kissing along his jaw, finally reaching his lips and kissing him, sweetly. Bucky flickered his eyes open as Steve pulled away, “Awesome way to wake up, baby.” 

He smiled up at him, dopily, and Steve kissed his cheek, “You’re adorable in the morning,” he said, mumbling it against his skin, a hand coming up to the nape of his neck, fiddling with his long hair, slightly tentatively, as if Bucky might push him off.  
Yeah, he’s not gonna do that, Bucky likes Steve way too much for that.

He stroked a big, warm hand down his back, his thumb bumping over all the pieces of his spine, even under his (stolen) shirt, coming to rest possessively on his ass, palming over it, pushing Steve further onto him.  
Steve went willingly, legs in between Bucky’s and elbows either side of his ribs, hovering over him a little.

Bucky pulled Steve down so he could kiss him, tongue swiping his bottom lip, and then licking into his mouth, taking greedily when he opened up his mouth for him. Steve made a series of small, half-formed noises in the back of his throat and arched his back, practically collapsing on top of him. 

Bucky rolled them over, so he was on top, caging Steve’s head with his forearms, he looped his arms around Bucky’s neck and strained up to kiss him with slightly swollen, spit-slick lips, and arched his back, both of them groaning when their clothed, half-hard cocks rubbed against each other, growing harder with each second, with each hot, charged kiss.

Steve’s hands left Bucky’s neck to go down to his sweatpants and he paused, fiddling with the drawstring, he looked up at Bucky, with eyes ridiculously dilated, puffy, red lips and ridiculously messy hair, half from sleep, half because of Bucky, and asked “Is this ok?”

“Fuck, Stevie, yes, yeah,” Bucky panted, pressing feather light kisses down his neck, reaching the bottom of his neck and sucking a hickey to it, teeth scraping over the skin to Steve’s moans.

Steve tugged at the string and pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, pushing down his own with his other hand, “Fuck, Stevie, hands, please, fuck,” Bucky said, breathlessly and Steve complied as fast as he could, wrapping his long fingers around both of them, thumbing over the tip of their cocks to spread the pre-come, using it as a makeshift lube. 

Bucky braced himself of one arm, muscles bunching up with the effort and reached down with the other to cover Steve’s hand, trying not to thrust into their overlapped hands, and sped up.

“ _Fuck_ Bucky, I- _holy-FUCK-shit_ m’cl _-fuck you feel s-FUCK-so go-ah_ close,” Steve was writhing under him, his free hand tugging at Bucky’s hair, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, plunging his tongue in deep and taking and taking, spilling all of his _beautiful_ sounds into Bucky.

“It’s, _FUCK_ , it’s ok baby, you can come,” Bucky said, after he pulled away from the kiss, close to his orgasm as well. It took one, two, three more twists of his wrists and a soft bite to his collarbone before Steve was coming, onto Bucky’s stomach, with a cry of ‘Bucky’ that he drowned out with a kiss. 

Not long after, barely a second, maybe two, Bucky was coming too, Steve pressing kisses to his cheeks, jaw, lips, nose, eyelids and forehead as he did, stroking his hair when he collapsed half on top of him.

The stayed silent for a minute, catching their breath and tracing patterns on skin, hands under clothes, and trading soft, gentle kisses. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” Bucky murmured after a longer kiss, smiling at him,  
“Merry Christmas, Buck,” he said back, kissing the corners of his smile.

They were floating to outer space, entirely wrapped up in each other, whispering quiet ‘I love you’s followed up by soft kisses, at some point, Bucky had pulled the duvet over them, after they’d cleaned, cocooned and safe from everything in their own little world. 

Until Chris came into their room, screaming, as most five year olds do on Christmas day, at them to get up because _presents_ , and they couldn’t open them unless everybody was there.  
They were glad they were under a duvet, not wanting to be the ones to explain things to him. Bucky was going to leave that to Adam. 

He ran up to Bucky and hit him on the head, “Uncle Bucko c’mon we gotta open the pres’nts, Uncle Bucko, Uncle Bucko, Uncle Bu-”

He sat up in surrender, keeping the duvet around his waist, “Jeez, ok, kid, m’ up,” he said, catching Chris’ hands with one hand and poking at his ribs with the other, “did your dad teach you the annoying or what?” he said, jokingly, he was pretty sure he’d inherited it from Adam anyway. 

“Stevie, baby I know you’re awake, get up,” he nudged Steve, pulling back the duvet to expose him,  
“No,” he said, petulantly, throwing an arm over his eyes. Bucky grinned at Chris and put his finger over his lips, hopefully communicating to him to be quiet.

He pounced on top of him, straddling him and poking at his ribs, harsher than he’d been with Chris.  
“What the fu-uhhhulmination,” he yelled, very suddenly aware of the literal five year old in their vicinity. Bucky hummed, “Good save, babe,” he bent down to kiss his cheek, but Steve twisted his head at the last moment, they kissed properly, yet, very short lived because Chris started hitting them with a pillow with yells of disgust, because _ew, kissing_. 

Bucky reluctantly pulled away and Chris hit him one last time, just to make sure, and he told him that they’d be down in five. Chris seemed to agree with that, because he nodded with an air of finality to rival the entirety of the Supreme Court, and he left them with a warning of “No more kissing.”

* * *

It took them fifteen minutes to go downstairs, because they both had to change and then Steve picked up Bucky’s hoodie, intentionally, which sparked an argument because Bucky wanted to wear it and Steve wasn’t even a Gryffindor, so why would he wear a Gryffindor hoodie, and then he said that he was, which meant they both pulled up Pottermore and took the test.  
Steve was a Slytherin. 

And then he played dirty (Bucky should’a seen it coming, to be fair) by telling him that he like wearing his clothes because it smelled like him, and in a lower voice, because it made him feel like _Bucky’s_ , and _damn_ if that hadn’t stirred Bucky somewhere deep inside. 

So he pushed Steve up against the wall and kissed the everloving fuck out of him, pulling away to see his puffy lips and wild hair. _The death of him._

But they’d made it downstairs, and if it was only because Scott and knocked on the door and told them to stop fucking or he was gonna sic all the kids on them, then no one had to know. 

Anyway, the point is, they made it downstairs, kinda rushed because Bucky knew Scott and he knew that he followed through with (most of) his threats, in time to exchange presents, to cries of “he finally came out”, from his siblings. Bucky glared at them as he sat down on the floor, pulling Steve onto his lap as he does, circling his arms around him and kissing his shoulder. 

All his siblings threw pillows at them for being ‘disgustingly adorable’ and ‘too gay’, and at that, Steve turned around, threw an arm over his shoulder and kissed Bucky, deeply, much to the chagrin of his nephews, who took pillows from their parents to throw at them. 

“Children, stop,” Winnie said, coming in with a plate of still-warm cookies, addressing everyone in the room, actual children and her adult-children, ignoring Georgie’s mutterings of ‘I’m literally over 30’ and Bucky’s instances that Scott started it, she placed the cookies on the coffee table and announced, “You can open your presents now.”

All three children were screaming with the power of thirty, digging through the presents to find theirs and, at their parents’ insistence, passing all the presents that weren’t theirs to the rightful recipient. 

Steve turned to straddle Bucky, “Open at the same time?” he seemed oddly nervous, fiddling with Bucky’s hair.  
“Yeah, baby,” he was being ridiculously soft, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because, well, so was Steve, Tony had warned him, years ago now, that Steve was an asshole, but a nice asshole, and, quite frankly, he was right. But seeing Steve this, this _soft_ and pliant, like damn putty, _god_ it made him melt. 

“Ok,” he breathed, leaning forward kiss him, thankfully, all the children were too preoccupied with their presents to complain about them, he twisted away from Bucky to grab his present for him, the action causing a tiny sliver of his skin to show under the hoodie, Bucky unable to help himself, stroked his thumb against it, slipping his fingers up under it. 

Steve shuffled off Bucky’s lap, kissing away his pout, and handed him his present, a little awkwardly, it wasn’t heavy, just big, around the size of a movie poster, and maybe an inch thick, all wrapped neatly in holographic gold wrapping paper.  
“Damn, Stevie,” Bucky said, a little wide eyed, passing over his significantly smaller presents, a box, a couple inches thick, maybe A5 or slightly bigger and another, smaller box, around three inches by three inches and an inch thick. Both of the boxes wrapped horribly in shiny blue paper. 

“Bucky, babe, are these boxes, as in, cubes?” Steve asked turning them over in his hands, running his fingers over the twisted tape and the crinkly paper, folded and bent and odd angles. He looked up at him, eyes crinkling, laughing at him, but not in a particularly mean way, just in a _warm_ way, (he knew it made absolutely no sense whatsoever, shut up). 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, sheepishly.  
Steve just raises his eyebrows in challenged and said in the same, heated voice from last night, “Make me,” grinning when it had its desired effect on him, making his eyes flash with _want_ and making him suppress a groan because he was _in the middle of his living room with all his family, including three kids who were practically babies. Goddamn._

“Stevie, stop,” he said through laughter, clamping his hand over his mouth, half way through taunting “What you gonna do, make me?”

Steve struggles against him for a couple seconds and then decided to lick his hand, “Egh, Steve!” Bucky yelled, pulling his hand away and wiping it on Steve’s shoulder, unknowingly drawing all the attention to them.  
Steve looked at him in disbelief, “Buck, babe, I’v-”

“Steve, I’ve come to like you but if you dare finish that sentence about _defiling my baby brother_ you’ve got another thing coming,” Georgie interrupted, threatening him with one of Robbie’s toy cars. Steve turned bright red, and hid his face in Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky’s hand coming up to rest in his hair as he argued with Georgie that he wasn’t a baby, and that he was an _adult_. 

All his siblings, and his parents laughed at that, a chorus of ‘Sure, Bucko’ and ‘You’re still a baby’ resounding from all of them. _Whatever._

He turned back to Steve, pressing the presents back into his hands, “Open them, honey,” he urged, “I’ll open mine at the same time,” he continued, laying his present flat on the floor.

Steve look at him, smiling, “3, 2, 1,” he counted down, quietly, eyes only for him. 

They both tore the paper at the same time, Steve tearing at the paper and tape, ripping it all up and Bucky carefully picking away the tape to unfold the paper. 

“Holy shit, - sorry kids, Steve,” Bucky said, reverently, fingers carefully tracing over the acrylic. Steve has giving him a painting of him, sitting on a roof, leaning against a chimney, stargazing, looking up to a beautiful blend of colours he’s never actually seen in the sky. In the painting he’s smiling softly and the entire sky is reflected in his eyes, his hair looked ridiculously soft and _is that glitter on his cheekbones?_

He leaned forwards and cupped his face to kiss him gently, “I love it, I love you,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss. He leaned back so Steve could open his boxes. 

He opened the first one, revealing the inks, “Damn, Buck,” he breathed, “these are- you remembered?”  
“‘Course I remembered baby,” Bucky said tilting his head to accept the kisses Steve pressed against his lips, “open the other one,” he whispered. 

“Holy fuck- uh sorry- babe, is, is it real?” Steve said, voice barely above a whisper, his thumb running over the intricate design of the lid, scared to flip it over incase it was just a replica. 

“Sure is, Stevie,”

He immediately flipped it over, fingers and eyes searching for three sets of initials, J.R, S.R and S.G.R, and a serial number, finding them quickly, _it was real_ , “How…?” 

It had taken pulling a lot of favours and almost a year to track it and find it, by nothing short of pure luck, it was one that had kept by a museum, and then he’d had to go through stacks of papers and hours of interviews to prove that Steve was the rightful owner of it and that he would actually give it to him. But it was all worth it.

Steve opened it, slowly and carefully, only to see that it was blank, “They threw away the photo, they said that by the time they got it no one would’a been able to tell what it was,” Bucky said softly, stroking over Steve’s knuckles with his thumb.  
“It, it’s fine, I-just, _thank you_ so much,” he said, leaning up to press a feather light kiss to his lips.  
“You’re welcome, baby,” Bucky said, when they pulled away, stroking across his cheekbones with him thumb, gazing straight into his eyes.  
“I love you,”  
“I love you too, Stevie.”

Their little bubble was broken by Robbie, innocently asking, “Does Uncle Bucky punch Steve? ‘Cos he didn’t have that bruise before.”

 _Oh, fuck._

“Oh my god, you couldn’t keep it in your pants!”

“Christ, Bucky!”

“Count von Buchanan, damn!”

His entire family were laughing at him, good naturedly and commenting on Steve’s hickeys, his apparent inability to ‘keep it in his pants’ and how he’s ‘all grown up now’.

Steve hid his face in Bucky’s shoulder again, but he was laughing too, he could feel his smile against his skin and despite everyone laughing at them and coming up with nicknames that are sure to stick, he had Steve in his arms and he couldn’t think of a time he’s had a better Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thanks for reading! any comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	12. 26th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pointless morning fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy!!

**Wednesday, 26th December**

 

The pale, thin, wintery light streamed into the room, through a gap in Bucky’s old curtains, decorated with the Hubble Deep Field image, casting long shadows in the room. It hit Steve just right, highlighting his cheekbones and his collarbones, his jaw and his nose, deep shadows cast in the hollows of his neck and his collar, and long shadows cast by his ridiculously long, pretty eyelashes and down the slope of his nose. 

His pretty pink mouth was slightly pursed, small puffs of air falling out, in time with his chest rising and falling, the usually, distractingly, vibrant colour of his lips was dulled slightly, a little greyer than usual, as a result of the light, but they still look stupidly soft and ridiculously kissable. 

He was so very tempted to press a kiss to his lips, barely a centimetre away from his, but he refrained, he didn’t sleep enough (despite his insistance that he did) as it was, and call him selfish, but he wanted to revel in a peaceful Steve Rogers. It sounded ridiculously cliché but he looked younger, more innocent, years stripped off his face. Not that he looked particularly _old_ when he was conscious, he just, looked less stressed, more at peace, like goddamn Sleeping Beauty. 

The grey light made the whole room take on a lo-fi, washed out type look, and Bucky was suddenly brought back to a another time and another place.

> **A year ago**
> 
> Bucky resisted the urge to kiss Steve. _God, he was beautiful._
> 
> They were, well, there was no other word for it, they were cuddling. The heating was broken, again, in their apartment and they were under every blanket they own in Bucky’s bed (at Steve’s insistence) and Steve was wrapped up in Bucky’s hoodie and his arms. He’d worked his head under Bucky’s chin, on his chest and the rest of his body was curled up, into him. 
> 
> He really, really hoped that Steve couldn’t tell that his heart was beating at a, quite frankly, ridiculous pace.  
>  Because Steve was a smart guy, and he would figure out why Bucky’s heart could rival sonic. And he would ask him about it.  
>  And Bucky really, really liked Steve, way too much, too handle not being friends with him. 
> 
> So he ignored how much he liked him, and how sometime he would turn his head in just the right way it made him want to kiss him senseless, or when he’d wear Bucky’s clothes and he would get a wave of possessiveness he had no right to feel and how it would make him want to suck marks down his neck, along his thighs and across his hips.
> 
> He steadfastly ignored the pang in his chest he refused to address whenever Steve laughed or smiled or his eyes lit up in _that way._
> 
> So, right now, in their cold apartment, under a mountain of blankets, he held Steve slightly tighter, as he snuggled closer, _he must be really cold_ and tried to convince himself that he’d never have anything more and that he was happy with the way they were. Because he was, of course he was. Because there was no way, in a million years, in every single iteration universe, that Steve Rogers would like him back.
> 
> So he held him, in their cold, desaturated apartment, breathed him in, because, for the foreseeable future, that was all he was gonna get. 

Boy, had he been wrong. _God they were idiots._

He was broken out of his thoughts by Steve stirring, his mouth closing and his eyelids fluttering, eventually opening to look straight into Bucky’s eyes, half-lidded, drowsy, bright blue meeting wide awake, pale blue. 

He moved his head forward slightly to press a kiss to the closest part of Bucky, which ended up being just slightly to the side and under his chin, he stayed there to mumble a good morning against his skin, then wriggling his face to press his forehead against Bucky’s neck and his nose in the hollow between his collar bones, breathing him in, fluttering his eyes closed again. 

Bucky moved a hand to gently stroke his hair, fingers passing between soft, golden strands, the pads of his fingers skating along his scalp.

“Boys, it’s half past noon, get out of there, I meant it when I said no funny buissiness.”  
Bucky’s hand stilled in Steve’s hair when he heard his mom call them down, _it was already afternoon?_  
He slid his hand down to Steve’s neck and stroked it, gently with his thumb, trying to get him awake again, “Stevie, get up,”  
Steve tried to burrow himself further into Bucky, arms and legs curling tight around him, “No,” he mumbled into his chest, shaking his head, almost childishly. 

Bucky kissed his hairline, “Stevie,”

“No.”

“I’ll make you pancakes.”

“Don’t want pancakes, wan’ you.”  
He was barely aware of what he was saying, suspended between sleep and consciousness, certain that 99.9 percent of everything ever could burn and all he’d want is Bucky. 

_Sweet Jesus,_ “Stevie, baby, you can’t keep using these ridiculous lines on me.”  
He was lying and they both knew it, Steve’s ridiculous lines would always work on him, no doubt. _God, he was whipped._

“‘S true,” he said, sleepily, trying to hold onto Bucky as tight as possible, or well, as tight as he could half asleep. Bucky could benchpress almost up to one and a half times his own weight, he wasn’t exactly hostage, and Steve was barely awake, his ‘tight’ was just kind of pressing his arms and his thighs to Bucky.

Steve kept mumbling all kinds of petnames and nicknames into Bucky’s skin, all melding into one non stop stream of vowels and consonants meshed together, occasionally fading out, but coming back with the gusto of a broadway finale act. 

“Stevie, Steve, baby, honey, sweetheart, it’s almost one, we gotta get up,” Bucky said, catching the numbers on his alarms clock, making no move at all to move.  
“Y’ comf’t’bl’, l’ve y’,” Steve mumbled, kissing Bucky’s chest, “y’ve got m’heart, Bucky, h’ney, I l’ve y’ s’much.” he continued when Bucky didn’t say anything, compeletely unaware of the effect on him. 

He was going to melt into a pathetic puddle of emotions straight from a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

He brought his arms around him, holding him tight, resting his head on his shoulder, turning his head so he could whisper into his ear, “Stevie, baby, you’ve got my heart too, I love you, so, so much.”

He saw Steve smile dopily, eyes brightening when he heard what Bucky said.  
“D’ we really gotta get up?” he asked, dejectedly, holding onto Bucky microscopically tighter.  
“Yeah, baby, or everyone’s gonna come up and spray us with water,” Bucky said, pulling back slightly, remembering all the times as a kid when his dad told him to tip glasses of water over his siblings when they didn’t get up and all the times as a teenager when _he_ didn’t want to get up and his siblings tipped water on him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do it again, or maybe he’d get one of the kids to do it. 

Steve pouted, eliviated slightly when Bucky kissed him, tender and soft, “I don’t mind seein’ ya wet,” he said, after pulling away, ridiculously suggestive for a man who’d had him in a koala-like grip, barely a minute ago. 

“Stevie,” he said, telling his body to _calm the fuck down_ because a halfhearted, entirely lacklustre, line shouldn’t be getting him this turned on. Especially from a guy who looked like he had no idea which way of the room was up. 

“Bucky,” he mimicked, pitching his voice lower in a caricature of Bucky. 

“Get up.”

“Make me.” 

“Oh my god,” Bucky let his head fall back onto Steve’s shoulder, momentarily, “we are not doing this again.” In an incredible show of self restraint and responsibility, to Steve’s offended gasp and subsequent whines, he launched himself out of bed, tugging himself out of Steve’s hold. 

He ended up on the floor. 

When he got back up, the first thing he saw was Steve rolled up in his comforter, just his nose, eyes, forehead and messy floof of hair exposed to the elements.  
Bucky crouched next to him, kissing his nose, “Hello, burrito man,” he said, smiling.

“Mff bfffrrff ahfffamdofft meh.”

“Wow, I love you too babe,” Bucky teased, completely certain that that wasn’t what he’d said, confirmed by his scowl.  
Bucky gently tugged the comforter down so it was loosely around his neck and he could see his whole face. 

“You gonna get up?” 

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!  
> any comments and kudos are v much appreciated  
> i hope everyone had a good boxing day!!  
> tumblr:nohalfway


	13. 27th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iceskating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its late, i hope you enjoy xx

**Thursday, 27th December**

 

“Bucky, Bucky, don’t fucking let me go I swear to god, fuckfuckfuckthiswasaterribleideaIshouldnever’vegottenoutofbedIhavesomanyregrets,” Steve yelled, gloved hands gripping onto Bucky’s coat lapels, legs flailing around, trying to balance himself.

He regrets saying yes to ice skating on a goddamn frozen over _lake_ in the middle of the park.

Bucky got his arms around his waist and steadied him against his chest, securing his arms around his slim waist, staying there in the middle of the lake until Steve stopped swearing up a blue streak, all the… less savoury words censored because Steve’s face was buried in Bucky’s scarf. 

He was still pouting by the time he’d pulled away, ever so slightly, mostly steady on his feet but still gripping onto Bucky’s forearms. Bucky ducked his head to kiss him, pressing into him gently, and when he moved away, his pout was barely there, in place of a lovestruck look that made Bucky weak at the knees. He knew for certain that he had the exact same look, looking down at Steve, because, how could he not?

He had a beanie that he’d crammed down to a millimeter above his eyebrows, his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, the blush travelling across his to his nose, his lips were a dusty pink, slightly chapped, but still so fucking _kissable?_

He had a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, the ends trailing down, parallel to the lapels of his peacoat, on top of a (stolen) sweater, and knowing him, he probably had two more layers under that, _and then his bare skin and his dusty pink nipples and now it’s time to STOP Barnes._

Steve tipped is head to the side a little, a small smirk playing on his lips, a question dancing in his eyes, “You know… if you wanna rip four layers off’a me, I wouldn’t be opposed.”  
Bucky sputtered, still keeping his balance, microscopically tightening his hold on Steve, “I wasn’t thinking of that…” he defended, weakly.  
Steve saw right through it.

“Bucky, babe, you get, this _look_ y’know?” he said, smiling,  
“We’ve been dating for three days! We’ve made it to third base once! How?” Bucky said, incredulously, Steve just kissed him on the corner of his mouth,  
“You’re lucky you’re cute,”

“Stevie,”

“Yes, babe,” he said, innocently, eyes shining as he smiled wider at him, tongue poking out between his teeth, _God, he was fucking adorable._ Unable to resist himself, he leaned into him to kiss him, slow and gentle, when he pulled back, his lips were even pinker and his blush was slightly darker. Bucky tried to squash down the pride he felt, because that was as a result of _him._

“Try skating across the lake? For me?” he asked, smiling softly at him, gently tugging him so he was walking backwards and Steve was gliding slowly forward.  
Steve smiled up a him, “Ok, but don’t you fucking dare let me go.”

Bucky laughed and skated smoothly on the ice, taking Steve with him, slowly gaining speed as they crossed the lake. They spinned to a stop, Bucky still leading them and Steve clutching tightly to him.

“How was that?” Bucky asked, kissing his forehead, pulling back to see Steve’s wide smile and shining eyes.

“Can we go again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3


	14. 28th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw but with Emotions(tm)

**Friday, 28th December**

 

“Bye! Have a nice time!” Bucky called, after his mom and his family, he shut the door and made his way back to Steve who was fixing a bauble back up on the tree in the living room. Bucky walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his head over his shoulder and kissed his cheek, “Hey, baby.” 

Steve smiled softly and turned in his arms, sliding his hands up to his shoulders, “Hey,” he tugged Steve forwards making himself walk backwards until the back of his knees hit the couch. He sat down and gently pulled at Steve's waist.

Steve dropped his legs either side of Bucky, straddling him, “So,” Bucky started, softly, trailing his fingers down his side, “Everyone’s gone to winter wonderland for the day and we have the house to ourselves,” Bucky kissed the corner of his mouth before continuing, “got any ideas for something to do?”

In lieu of an answer, Steve pushed his hands into his hair and kissed him, licking into his mouth, hot, soft lips that tasted of the cocoa they’ve just had, moving in tandem with his. Steve was making small, tiny noises in the back of his throat. He pulled away, grinning when Steve made a whiny sort of noise, which quickly turned into a gasp when Bucky ducked his head and nipped at the pulse point on his neck. _Huh._

Bucky, ever the quick learner, carried on kissing and licking at the spot, Steve’s hands tightening in his hair, until it turned red, then purple. He pulled back again, admiring his mark, when Steve seemingly decided that it was his turn to make Bucky melt.

He licked a line down his neck, stopping at the base and lightly scraped his teeth experimentally against his collarbone. Bucky could feel him smirking against his skin when he gasped. Steve slid his hands down from Bucky’s hair, never stopping in kissing and biting at his collarbone, to the hem of his shirt, fingers slipping up, underneath it.

“Hey, _oh fuck,_ hey,” Bucky, said, lightly tugging at Steve’s hair, smiling a little when a small moan fell out of his lips, filing that particular fact away for later. “Yeah,” Steve replies, breathlessly, with swollen, red, spit-shiny lips _and fuck,_ “I-uh-bed,” was all Bucky managed to get out, because, _damn,_ didn’t know if the well-fucked (even though they hadn’t even done anything yet - and that just made it hotter) look was a new kink he’s just discovered or if it was just Steve, but, _damn,_ he liked it.

Steve, comprehending Bucky’s small brain-melt, grinned, hooked his chin over Bucky’s shoulder and wrapped his arms tight around his neck and legs securely around his waist. He turned his head to whisper into Bucky’s ear, “Take me, then.”

Bucky did just that, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and used his legs to get up off the couch. Steve groaned a little, he could feel Bucky’s thighs flexing under him. He swallowed the groan with a searing kiss, fierce and red-hot. He maneuvered them kissing Steve the whole way, with only minimal bumping to his room and shut the door.

He felt Steve rock against him and tried to suppress the gasp when he felt him hard against him. He dropped his gently on the bed, climbing on top of him. He revisited his marks from earlier, nosing down Steve’s neck and rucking up his shirt, Steve was a mess of moans and half strings of partly formed sentences under him. He got off Steve’s shirt and threw it somewhere to the left.

Steve panted and tugged at his at Bucky’s t-shirt, “Your’s, off.” he complied as fast as he could, so he wasn’t away from Steve that long, bet when he went back down, he kissed down his chest, paying attention to some of the tattoos, until he reached his nipples, he latched his mouth on to one, licking at the nub and brought his hand up to the other, gently twisting it.

Steve’s back arched of the bed, “Ah, fuck, Bucky, fuc-ah,” he was so, so sensitive, and Bucky loved it, a constant stream of curses and moans and gasps fell from Steve’s mouth. When Bucky relented slightly, he pulled back up to him to kiss him, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s sides, brushing his thumbs over his nipples, swallowing his gasps. 

He rolled them over, so he was on top, between Bucky’s legs, and kissed and licked down his torso, biting along his collarbone and down his and, leaving bright red marks that stood out against his skin.

Steve’s mouth reached his fly and looked up at him, “Is this ok?”  
Bucky panted above him, chest rising and falling, “Fuck, Stevie, baby, yes, yes,” tumbled out of his mouth, he was so, so hard, even more so with what Steve seemed to be offering.

Steve immediately used his mouth to undo Bucky’s button and his fly and used his fingers to push down Bucky’ jeans and boxers. He let out a small gasp when his cock was finally free, fully hard, cold air hitting it.

He was _big,_ not monster-cock-never-want-that-in-me-ever-no-really big, but a nice holy-fuck-fuck-me-into-next-year-please-and-thank-you big. Steve really wanted it in him, so he put the tip in his mouth and licked up the salty pre-come, groaning at the taste. Bucky cried out above him and tried to not thrust into his soft, warm mouth. His hands flew to his hair, not pulling, just resting. Steve kept one hand at the base of Bucky’s dick and pressed the heel of his other hand to his throbbing erection.

He worked his way down Bucky’s cock, tongue swirling around, reducing him to a mess of half-moans and reverent utterances of “Stevie.” 

His mouth was so, so perfect and _so_ hot and wet and soft and the image of Steve's perfect, pretty pink lips stretched around his cock, lust-blown eyes, gazing up at him, the image of _that_ was never going to leave his mind. 

Steve moaned when his cock hit the back of his throat, sending vibrations up Bucky’s spine, and angled himself to take him further, causing Bucky to tighten his grip in steve’s hair, making Steve moan again as he made his way down to the base of his dick, nose buried in neatly trimmed, dark hair. He stayed like that for a moment, gazing up at Bucky, until he began to move again, slowly along his cock, he pushed his hips up, encouraging him to fuck his mouth.

And he did exactly that.

Bucky gripped Steve’s hair tighter and thrusted into his mouth, rough enough to make his eyes water. He would have been worried about hurting him, or him not enjoying the roughness if he hadn’t been making pretty much, very pretty, non-stop moans and if his pupils weren’t blown so wide his irises were barely a cerulean sliver.

Bucky felt his orgasm build up in him, nearing a crescendo, “Stevie, _fuck that’s good_ I’m close,” he warned him, but Steve kept his mouth on his cock, and when he came, with a loud cry of “Stevie,” he swallowed it all, sucking while he did to help him ride it out.

He pulled off with a soft pop, licking the drops of come of the bottom of his lip, and Bucky tugged him up and kissed him moaning softly when he tasted himself on Steve’s lips and tongue. He ran his hand down towards Steve’s cock, “I should-” he started, only to be cut off by Steve’s sheepish grin, “No need,” _god_ his voice was so, so hoarse, because of _Bucky_.

He blinked at him, _did he…_

“Did you…”

“Yeah,”

Bucky groaned, still floating, _oh, that was hot._ “We’re gonna do something with that later, _god_ you’re sensitive.”  
Steve grinned, and nodded and in the same, hoarse voice, he said, “Yeah, yeah, ok.” Bucky kissed him softly on the temple and tugged him into an embrace, arms circling around him, cuddling him, tucking him under his chin and breathing deeply, lungs filled with the scent of _Steve._

Steve buried himself into Bucky’s chest, fingers tracing along vibrant bite marks, he was calm and at peace with him, still on his high after his orgasm, he was pretty sure that he could stay like this until the end of the universe, surrounded by Bucky.


	15. 29th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stupid fluff, may or may not cause cavities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its late, i hope you like it

**Saturday, 29th December**

“Bucky you are DEAD I swear to god,” Steve yelled, after getting snow shoved down the back of his coat, by none other than his boyfriend, _what kind of betrayal?_  
Bucky, his wonderful, amazing, beautiful, loving, goddamn _bastard_ boyfriend, cackled and ran away to hide behind a tree, head poking out to stick his tongue out at Steve. 

Steve gathered up snow and pressed it into a ball, he scowled at Bucky, with absolutely no heat behind it, whatsoever, and threw it at him, laughing at his fake-offended look when the snow splattered over his face. “You are SO on Rogers.”

Bucky built up an arsenal of snowballs ready to pelt Steve with behind his tree, at the same time Steve was frantically creating his, he hoped that, while he had a disadvantage regarding strength, he could make up for it by being a smaller target. 

Yeah, no.

Both of them ended up soaked in melted snow, both of them far to proud and stubborn to give in and admit surrender, so they just kept going until the sun went down and they couldn’t see each other and Bucky’s mom called them inside with the promise of hot cocoa.

Steve stuck his hand out, to Bucky, “Good game,” and Bucky took the hand and pulled Steve forward into a very cold, very wet kiss, chapped lips on chapped lips.  
“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling, he didn’t think that he was ever going to tire of the feeling of Steve’s lips on his, the initial connection, fire and electric, how he kissed him millions of billions of different ways, depending on what he wanted and what he knew Bucky wanted. 

“Boys! Stop canoodling for five minutes, I swear to god!” Steve turned red and hid his face in Bucky’s wet scarf as Bucky flipped off his sister.  
“Becca! Stop teasing them, boys, come inside or you’ll need to get your limbs chopped off,” Winnie chided, motioning them to come inside and sliding the door shut quickly behind them. She draped a blanket over their shoulders and steered them towards the fire, putting hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and marshmallows on the coffee table, “Stay here until you defrost,” she said, muttering under her breath about recklessness in cold temperatures and it’s inevitable lead to frostbite and amputations.

They stripped down to just their jeans and t-shirts, discarding everything else and shoving it to the side. Bucky leaned against the armchair with the blanket around his shoulders and pulled Steve so he was sitting in the V of his legs, his arms wrapped around him along with the blanket and his chin in his shoulder, looking toward the fire.

They stayed like that for a while, their drinks getting drunk and their clothes drying up, Bucky occasionally kissing Steve’s neck, in the middle of sentences, or just absentmindedly as they watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Steve tipping his head back so it was on Bucky’s shoulder and turning so he can kiss his cheek and his jaw, eventually turning his whole body and curling into Bucky, eyes falling shut.

Bucky just held him tighter and leaned his cheek on his head, whispering “I love you,” and kissing him softly when he mumbled “I love you” back and leaned into him. 

They stayed like that until all the other lights in the house were off, and someone had dimmed the lights of the living room, the fire still flickering in front of them, until Steve opened his eyes and pressed kisses along his neck, trailing them up to the juncture of his jaw and then along his jawline, stopping to hover barely a millimeter over Bucky’s lips, eyes flicking to his.

“What’re you waiting for, baby?” Bucky mumbled, a hand coming up to cup his face, lips just brushing Steve’s as he talked, stretching into a smile at Steve’s adorable, sleepy state. _Fuck, he was so fucking adorable. Should be illegal. Goddamn._

“N’th’n,” Steve mumbled sleepily, aiming for defensive, just ending up _so fucking adorable, Jesus._ “L’ve y’,” he said, finally kissing him on his lips, slowly and lazily, like they had all the time in the world. He moved languidly, wrapping his arms around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, and shifting himself so his legs were draped over Bucky’s lap, so he was straddling him, all while still kissing him. Bucky slid a hand into his hair, unintentionally messing it up, smiling into the kiss when Steve made a small noise in the back of his throat, practically a purr, and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer, so they were pressed up against each other. 

When they finally parted, breathing a little harder, lips a little pinker and skin a little more flushed, a little more warm, Bucky nosed his way under his ear and pressed a kiss to his pulsepoint, lingering there, feeling his (mostly) steady pulse against his lips, mumbling “Love you,” and holding him tighter, seeing him smile, sleepily, dopily, in the corner of his eye, the flickering fire in front of him casting beautiful orange-red-yellow light across him, in tandem with the shadows dancing along his face and yeah, he was a scientist not an artist, and he knew jackshit about colour theory and ‘warmth’ and ‘earthy tones’ or what-the-fuck-ever he remembered Steve ranting about when he’d still been in college, but _damn_ he could _appreciate_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thank you for reading!!  
> tumblr: nohalfway (talk to me im lonely)


	16. 30th Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bucky looks unfairly good in a coffee shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late again, oof sorry, but theres mildly shitty art!! (by yours truly)

**Sunday, 30th December**

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Hmm?” Steve cocked his head and looked Bucky in the eyes, as opposed to the vague staring in his general vicinity from a second before.  
“The, look, you were giving me?” Bucky said, smiling a little, the lights flickering over his face, _God, he was gorgeous._

They were in a coffee shop, because Steve was in a _fuck capitalism_ mood today, as a result of some pure bullshit he’d seen on Twitter, they weren’t in the Starbucks, even though it was (marginally) closer to Bucky’s house.  
Instead, they were in a mildly hipster, kinda steampunk themed, surprisingly dimly, yet, well-lit, coffee shop called Y NOT.

“I weren’t givin’ you any look,” Steve said, hiding his blush by strategically taking a sip of his coffee, suddenly finding the table incredibly interesting. Bucky reached across the table, put two fingers under his chin and gently lifted his head, to make him look in his eye and smiled at him, “Stevie,”  
He gave him a rueful smile, and said, softly, “Yeah, Buck?”

He just gave him an encouraging look, leaning further forward to sweetly press a kiss to his lips, tasting the sweet, seasonally-appropriate coffee he’d just drunk, pulling away to a small whine from him, Steve smiled softly at him, “You, you just looked, I dunno, just, _good._ Like you look stupid good every day, but just here, and now? I kinda just wanna draw you? You’re just… Illegally gorgeous,” he said in one long ramble, eyes falling again, a blush gradually spreading over the bridge of his nose and over his cheek bones.

Bucky felt a warm, _fuzzy_ feeling spread in his chest, spreading throughout his whole body, reaching the tips of his finger and the very ends of his toes, “Can you?” he asked, “If, if you want to-”  
“Yeah, yeah, I really want to,” Steve said quickly, “Now?” he asked, already reaching for the sketchbook his kept in his bag, eyes flicking to him, for confirmation, hunting for a pencil when he nodded.

“You need me to pose or…” Bucky asked, picking at the sleeve of his coffee cup.

“Uh, no? Just, normal, you know? Whatever feels natural,” Steve said, leaning back, already stroking the pencil over the page.

An hour and a bit passed, and more coffee cups built up on the table, and Steve had pulled out some felt tips to colour in the picture, eventually putting it all away to find a simple biro and scrawled something on it.  
He put the book on the table and pushed it towards him, slightly nervously, “You like it?”  
Bucky leaned forwards to kiss him again, “I love it, baby.”

* * *

 

<https://nohalfway.tumblr.com/post/181586945141>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> thanks for reading


	17. 31st Dec.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new year’s eve!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda late again (pls excuse any spag errors it’s 2am) but HAPPY NEW YEAR TO U!!

**Monday, 31st December**

Steve leaned his forearms against the banister of the porch, gazing up at the stars, thinking over the past week, the past year, listening absentmindedly to everyone inside and the livestream on the TV of Times Square, and the footsteps approaching him from behind. 

Bucky walked up to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind him, hooking his chin over his shoulder, “Hey,” he murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw, leaning into him. They stayed like that for a while, watching the neighbors’ fireworks, quietly observing the loud, bright sparks of colour over the dark, dark sky, revelling in each other’s warmth, until the sky went quiet and black again. Steve turned around to face Bucky, bringing his hands up to curl around his neck and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, drawing a small sigh out of him. Bucky pushed him, gently, against the banister, tongue exploring his mouth, languidly, like they had all the time in the world to stay like that, under the stars, arms around each other, kissing lethargically.

Eventually, they had to pull away, breathing heavier, but they stayed close, close enough to count eyelashes and freckles, to see every coloured line-strand-thing of his bright, vividly blue iris, _stroma_ the back of his mind supplies, accompanied with flashes of pages of high school biology exams, somewhere deep, deep in his subconscious, secondary, by far, to _Steve_ in front of him, pupils dilated, lips pinker and spit-slicked, so, so beautiful. 

Bucky pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I love you,” he said quietly, not like he was sharing a secret, but like he had something special, to be cherished, to live, not preserve, to keep alive.  
And by God, was he going to.

Steve smiled up at him, an impossibly soft look on his face, “I love you too, Buck,” he said, leaning in to him, safe and secure in his arms. 

Bucky kissed him on the edge of his hairline, and asked, filling the silence, “You got any resolutions?”  
“For the new year?”  
“Hmm,” Bucky nodded, batting off a snarkier remark in his head, he liked Steve like this, and wanted to keep it, their atmosphere, or vibe, or whatever, like this, calm, quiet, and soft.  
“Not really,” he said, noncommittally, ignoring the _be good enough for Bucky to stick around_ that flashed up in his mind, he never really did resolutions, just vague ideas of being better, getting better one year (he tried not to think too much about that year), improving.

“You?” he asked, lightly, knowing he was going to get the same answer he’s gotten for the last four years.  
Bucky smirked, knowing this, and gave him the same answer he’s been giving him for the last four years, “Better than this one.”  
Steve huffed a small laugh, and murmured, what he’d been saying back for four years, “Your best days are still ahead of you.”  
Bucky smiled, “Yeah,” and added something new to the repertoire, “yeah, baby,” and ducked down to kiss him, short and sweet. They pulled away when they heard everyone yelling inside to get ready, it was thirty seconds until ten seconds to the new year.

“You wanna go inside?” Bucky asked, glancing over his shoulder to the living room, seeing all his family inside, his nephews all huddled under a blanket, desperately fighting off yawns, determined to stay up, all the adults, sans his dad who’d already fallen asleep on the armchair with a blanket draped over him, empty champagne flute dangling from his hand, gathered around the TV in various stages of tipsy, the ones closer to drunk clutching those more sober.

Steve followed his gaze, “Nah, you go back, if you wanna,” he said, when Bucky turned and looked back at him.  
Bucky just smiled softly and said, “And miss a chance to kiss my best guy on New Years?” 

_TEN_

Bucky pulled him impossibly closer, “Nah,” he whispered.

_NINE_

Steve smiled, “Your best guy, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

_EIGHT_

“Mm hmm, the best.”

_SEVEN_

“Your mine too-”

_SIX_

“-you know?”

_FIVE_

“Yeah-”

_FOUR_

“-I know.”

_”Three-”_ Steve whispered, tilting his head up.

_“Two-”_ Bucky returned sliding a hand to cup his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

_“One.”_ They said, together.

They both leaned in lips touching as everyone inside cheered and the neighbors set off more fireworks, but all they could focus on was each other, every single point where they touched, Bucky’s hand on his hip, and the other one cradling his face, Steve’s hands wound into Bucky’s hair, the light brush of their torsos against each other, every single point was electric, almost overwhelming, almost like a fuse ready to go off. 

But they moved slowly, easily, hands and fingers tracing small, grounding, patterns, lips and tongues moving, almost rhythmically, like a dance, soft and warm, sliding against each other. Like they could do this forever, like the world could explode, a colourful shower of gunpowder, or maybe loud and fiery, the way they predicted in Norse mythology, or a new Ice Age, or global warming and world wide floods, or the goddamn _turtles holding up the world_ could collapse, and all they could stand to do was this, kiss and touch and bask in each other, until the end of the world.

Eventually, of course, they had to pull away, lung capacities getting the better of them. When they did, they didn't move any further away than they had to, lips still brushing, puffs of air mingling, visibly condensing in the night air, highlighted by the light spilling out from the living room. 

“Happy New Year, James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve mumbled against his lips, smiling a little over ‘Buchanan’, kissing him on the cheek, lingering there for a moment. 

“Happy New Year, Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky said, in nature to Steve, kissing him soundly on the lips, smiling when he whined when he pulled away, “we can do more later,” he promised, kissing his pout, “lets go inside, it’s time for ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“Tradition.” Bucky said, dropping his hand from Steve’s face to wrap it around his waist, tugging him across the porch, into the house.

* * *

“So,” Steve started, after swallowing a spoonful of mint choc-chip, smirking a little at Bucky when he saw his eyes follow his throat as he swallowed, “what’s the deal with ice cream on new years?”  
Bucky just shrugged, “Like I said, just tradition, since pretty much forever,” he said, cramming a spoonful of cookie dough into his mouth, tongue flicking out ~~unnecessarily~~ to catch some of the ice cream that hadn’t made it into his mouth. 

Steve snapped up to look him in the eye, from following his tongue with his eyes, “Makes sense,” he said, falsely casually, just about keeping his voice from cracking (mostly). 

Bucky looked way too smug, so, Steve leaned into him, as if for a kiss, however, he ducked his head at the last minute and scooped up some of his ice cream, going for the part with the most chocolate chips, laughing at Bucky’s betrayed look, quickly cramming it in his mouth, letting the spoon dangle from it.

Bucky gently tugged the spoon from Steve’s mouth, eyes following his tongue when it slipped out to draw the rest of the ice cream from the spoon, and kissed him, deeply, pushing his tongue into his mouth tasting the stolen ice cream.

Steve suddenly pulled away, frowning, “You only wanted your ice cream back,” he accused, playfully, licking his lips.  
Bucky grinned, put their ice cream bowls on the table in front of them, and slid his hands down to Steve's waist, kind of awkwardly because of the angle, and then manhandled him, much to his undignified yelps.

He quickly lifted him up and dragged him over his lap, repositioning his hands so they were in his hair, and pulled him down for another messy, fierce, kiss. Steve groaned quietly into it, “You _ah_ still only wanted _hnng_ your ice cream back, but, _mmf_ for future reference, you manhandling me is _fuck_ hot as hell-”

Becca threw a spoon at them, hitting Steve squarely on the back, “Get a room, Banana, Stove.” 

Bucky grinned at her, over Steve’s shoulder, ignoring the nicknames, and lifted Steve up, hands worming their way under his thighs, standing up as he hooked his ankles behind his back.  
“Will do,” he said, still smiling, kissing Steve.

* * *

Steve rolled over, wriggling so he was comfortable and tucked up against Bucky, after they were mostly cleaned up. He pressed a kiss to his jaw, “H’ppy new year, Buck, l’ve you, s’lot, very much,” he mumbled, eyes valiantly trying to stay open, some more syllables, possibly, maybe, words, mumbled against his skin. Bucky wrapped an arm around him, pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Happy new year, I love you too, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so  
> genuinely truly really, well done, sm, for reaching the end of the year, i hope you all the best for next year and your best days will be ahead of you. love you lots <3


	18. 1st Jan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> roadtrip 2, the (late, again, sorry) sequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoy!!

**Tuesday, 1st January**

“Mff, grrrm, ge’m’c’f’e’,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s lap.

“Good morning to you too, Stevie,” Bucky laughed, twisting around to put his phone on his bedside table, bending down to kissing him on top of his forehead when he turned back, like he’d been doing it for years. Steve huffed out of his nose and mumbled some more nonsense, without opening his eyes, until Bucky shut him up with a kiss, despite the awkward angle, finally opening his eyes when he pulled away, smiling blearily at him.

“There he is,” Bucky said, with a grin, kissing him on the nose, grinning wider when he wrinkled his nose at him. Bucky made to get up, shifting his legs, but Steve's hands flew up to his hips, attempting to keep him there, “No.”

“Stevie, I need to get up,” Bucky said, laughing, running his hands through Steve's hair and running them down his back. Steve just hummed discontentedly at him, turning his face back into his thighs “No.”

“We’re going back today, you're driving six hours, get up,” Bucky said, lightly tapping him with his hands and stroking his hair. Steve made a sound that Bucky was pretty sure was a purr, a passive aggressive purr, definitely sure. 

Steve tipped his head up, squinting up at Bucky, “Can we stay in bed if I give you a blowjob?”  
Bucky choked, coughing, hands stilling on his body, “Steve! No, we gotta leave soon ‘cause of the rental,” he said, valiantly trying to fight off images of Steve’s pretty pink lips wrap- _shut up, babbabbababalallalalalalalalalalalaaaaaaaaa._

Steve harrumphed for another few minutes, mumbling more nonsense into Bucky’s thighs, as he ran his hands through his hair, eventually getting up and straddling Bucky, slumping against him and kissing his neck, hands wandering down to to his waist, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, drawing small circles on his skin with the tips of his fingers. 

“Bucky-” Winnie came into the room and Bucky jumped, yelling, “We weren’t doing anything!” pushing Steve off him so he landed with an ‘oof’ on his back.  
“Sorry, Stevie,” he said, sheepishly, offering him a hand.  
“You so sure you’re out yet? I swear Danny did the same thing back in high school,” Steve grumbled as he grabbed Bucky’s hand, letting himself be pulled up, slightly mollified when Bucky kissed his cheek in apology. 

Winnie, brought back to _my god, almost a decade ago,_ when Bucky was caught with a guy for the first time, let them be in their bubble for a moment longer, before reminding them to get ready, she had pancakes.

* * *

“Now, are two sure you have everything?” Winnie asked, by the window of the car.  
“Yes mom,” Bucky chorused, fiddling with his phone, setting up google maps.  
She made an unhappy noise, “Ok, ok, you should visit more, James,”  
Bucky winced at the name, he felt slightly guilty leaving home, the same as he did when he ‘officially’ moved out, being the youngest of the family, “I will, mom,” he said, hopefully reassuringly, he did want to, he knew that he probably didn’t visit enough.

“You say the exact same thing everytime,” Winnie said, shaking her head, “anyway,” she continued, patting his arm, “you best be going.” 

They drove off to shouted goodbyes and warnings of ‘stay safe’. 

Yeah, he was gonna miss them.

* * *

“You made another playlist?” Bucky asked, after Steve plugged in his phone to the car’s aux, Steve hummed in agreement, tapping a few more things on his phone, until a loud riff Bucky didn’t recognise blared from the speakers.  
Bucky gave Steve a questioning look before pulling onto the highway, “Eh, I was feeling 70s rock, there might be some 80s stuff in there,” he answered with a shrug, shifting around to put his feet on the dash and pulled out his sketchbook, to work on the sketch of Bucky from just over a week ago. 

_Jesus, a lot had changed._

“Hey, Buck,” Steve started, after one and a half Led Zeppelin tracks, “you ever think, this,” he waved a hand around, almost poking his own eye out with his pencil, “this, is too easy-”  
“Driving?”  
Steve huffed, “No, like, _us_ , like, we’ve been together for _years_ , not barely a week,”  
Bucky swallowed, focussing on the road, “Steve,” he said quietly, “I’ve loved you for a year already, hell, I wanted to lick all of you from the minute we met,” he confessed, glancing over at Steve quickly, trying to gauge his reaction from a split-second look. 

“Fuck!” Steve slid further down in his seat, frowning.  
“Baby you ok? You want me to pull over?” Bucky asked, concerned, looking ahead for a hard shoulder.  
Steve struggled (mostly) back up right, and sighed, “Nah, it’s just, I’ve liked you for that long as well. And the entire year we coulda been _us_ y’know.”

“Yeah, Jesus we’re idiots,” Bucky laughed, fighting down the regret, that they could have had _this_ for months, not days, that what if Steve, just, runs out of love for him, that he only has a certain amount and he couldn’t experience it, or what if he gets ill, or dies and all they had was a week, all because what, becaus-

“Buck, I can hear you thinking,” Steve snapped him out of his thoughts, laying his hand over his on the gear stick, tracing over the joint of his thumb with the tip of his, “you can say _what if _all day long but it won’t change the past.”__

Bucky sighed, “Yeah, I know. When did you get so wise all of a sudden,” _crisis (mostly) averted._  
Steve grinned at him, “I guess your nonagenarian-ness is rubbing off on me.”  
“Oh c’mon! That was years ago, Stevie,”  
“Hey! Focus on the road, I know that back in your day-”  
“Shut up,”  
Steve grinned again, knowing exactly where this was going, “Make me.”

“Stevie,” Bucky said, as sternly as he could, channelling his inner high school principal.  
“Bucky,” Steve said, mimicking him.  
“Shut up.”

“Make me.” 

_For the love of God!_

* * *

They stopped in a diner, not the same one as last time, but similar, but this time, when they walked in, they were holding hands, not for some fabricated ‘practice’, but for real. It was nice.

Steve said so to Bucky when they walked in, swinging their clasped hands slightly, Bucky just smiled at him and swung his arm around Steve's shoulders, ruffling his hair with his other hand and kissing him on the forehead, “Yeah, it is,” he said, fondly, chuckling when Steve scowled at him for messing up his hair.

* * *

“You want anything?” Steve asked, getting out of the car to go into the convenience, while Bucky was topping up the petrol, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket to double check he had everything he needed.  
“Uh, get me some M&Ms, crispy. And a diet coke,” Bucky said, pulling off the tank cap, turning back to Steve and kissing him soundly on the lips, easy and domestic, in the middle of petrol station.  
Steve hummed lightly in response, walking away and into the store. 

He had everything, balancing two cans and a couple bags of sweets and crisps, when he walked past the cosmetics isle, a bright flash of blue caught his eye, _huh._

* * *

“I’m gonna sleep for seventy years,” Steve said, dramatically, flopping on the couch, throwing his arms over his eyes and crossing his legs at his angles. He felt Bucky lift his legs up and deposit them onto his lap, rubbing his ankles.  
“Yeah,” he sighed, “me too,” he glanced, slightly nervously, at Steve, “can we, you don't have to if you don't want to, obviously, and really, ‘cos we’re not sharing a room anymore, there’s no reason to, but can we sleep together, like, in the same bed.”

Steve shot up, swinging his arms around Bucky’s neck to keep himself upright, he kissed him, softly, “Yeah, I wanna.”

Bucky smiled at him, kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth, “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!  
> tumblr:nohalfway


	19. 2nd Jan.

**Wednesday, 2nd January**

“Stevie, I gotta go over something at SI, Tony called, says it’s important,” Bucky said pushing himself up, upending Steve, who was lying pretty much on top of him, who pouted unhappily,  
“What happened to napping for a century?” He asked, rolling onto Bucky’s lap, who ran his fingers through his hair, and told him that Tony didn’t care, and it was probably only going to last an hour or so. Barely a scratch in the century long plan.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve conceded, staying wrapped up in Bucky’s Star Wars sheets as he watched him get dressed, shamelessly checking him out. Bucky refused to turned around because he _knew_ that if he did, there was no way he was going get out of bed again. And Tony was going to get very, very mad and he could bet his left arm that he would be bumped down on the project if he didn’t go, and he really, really didn’t want to be bossed around by Stark’s kid-but-not-really.

He shouldered his bag and bent down to draw Steve into a long kiss, “Don’t burn the block down while I’m gone,” he murmured when he pulled away.  
Steve pouted, playfully, “What else am I gonna do?”  
Bucky straighten up and ran his hand through his hair, further messing up his bedhead, _Steve looked way too cute with bedhead._ “Entertain yourself,” he said, with a smirk, walking out to Steve’s shouts of, “It would be more fun with you!”

* * *

Steve stayed in bed for another half-hour, flicking through Instagram stories he didn’t really care about and sending some memes to some people, dumb, slightly passive aggressive ones to Tony, and FBI agent ones to Nat. And a shirtless photo of him, tastefully cropped just below his hip bones to Bucky. 

He still had an hour to kill, he could work on his portfolio, draw up some ideas, like he’d promised Erskine for the the day after tomorrow, but, well, he could do that tomorrow, he had time. 

But he thought he could put that blue tube of (nice smelling) chemical junk to use.

* * *

“Holy _shit_ , Steve, room, now. Please.”

* * *

[steve with blue hair (done by yours truly, once again)](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com/post/181655182711/tell-me-about-the-stars-steve-hes-meant-to-have)


	20. 3rd Jan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> final chapter!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally the last chapter!!!
> 
> ok fr thanks to everyone who commented and gave kudos, it genuinely made me so exited to check this account for comments and made sure i actually finished this lmao. 
> 
> xx

**Thursday, 3rd January**

Steve was done, his hands ached from drawing for pretty much ten hours straight of drawing, he was fairly certain that he hadn’t moved at all in the entire time, and his bones were Not Happy about it.   
Ah well, he could probably go for another hour, he thought, rolling his shoulders and arching his back, wincing slightly when loud cracks sounded from his joints. _Jesus, he was getting old._

“Come on, old man, all of Brooklyn can hear your joints,” Bucky declared stalking into his room and spinning his chair around so Steve was facing him, pencil shavings still cupped in his hand. Steve, the very, absolute epitome of maturity and adulthood, threw the pencil shavings at Bucky, missing his face entirely, most of the shavings hitting his shirt.

Bucky gave him his lord-give-me-strength-(with-a-touch-of-I-love-this-asshole) face, tugging Steve up and out of his chair, catching him when he stumbled into his chest.  
“Hi,” he murmured, nose brushing with Steve’s, kissing him lightly.  
“Hey,” Steve said back, smiling, “can I go back to my work?” he asked sweetly, blinking quickly to get Bucky in focus, he was seventy, fifty, ok, _thirty_ percent sure that his glasses were clean.  
Bucky grinned at him, pulling him tighter against him, “You can,” he started, dipping his head into the crook of his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “if you can tell me what time it is,” he finished, smirking.  
His human disaster boyfriend had no sense of time whatsoever, this idiot didn't even own a clock. What a dumbass. He loved him _so_ much.

Steve groaned and dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder, this _asshole_ , using his weaknesses against him. Dickhead. He loved him.  
“Time to draw?” he said, hopefully, pressing kisses to Bucky’s jaw, in attempt to convince him.

It didn't work.

An hour later found Steve and Bucky eating pasta on the couch, or, well, Bucky feeding Steve long strands of spicy-tomato spaghetti straight from the pot they made it in, because they couldn’t find proper plates and/or bowls and they were too lazy to wash some. And Steve had claimed that his hands had cramped up too much to hold a fork.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure if he ate more or less that usual, sitting on Bucky’s lap and being fed the spaghetti they’d made together, well, Steve had made, with Bucky being a nuisance by staying plastered to his back, arms wrapped around his middle and pressing light kisses to his neck. Ok, so, maybe not _that_ much of a nuisance. But still. He liked it, he could see himself doing it for a- _hold off the proposal for a bit, Jesus, Rogers._

They finished off the pasta and were making out lazily, unhurriedly, hands tracing sweeping patterns across and over planes of skin, soft, slow kisses pressed against lips and necks and against pulse points, lingering there, breathing in sync.  
They both came, in each other's hands, holding each other, bodies shuddering, then slumping, holding each other up, mumbling sweet nothings.  
They stayed on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep until Bucky made to get up, much to Steve’s disappointment, who whined about his pillow moving.

“Stevie, we need to get cleaned up,” Bucky said, rummaging around the kitchen for some wet wipes.  
Steve harrumphed, reaching for his phone, “Yeah, I guess. Hey, Buck,” he said suddenly, sitting up straighter, “there’s meant to be a meteor shower tonight, you wanna go up to the roof?”

* * *

They sat on the roof of their apartment block, Bucky leaning against the stairwell door and Steve leaning against Bucky, in the vee of his legs, looking up at the cloud-free sky.

“Hey, Bucky,”

“Yeah,” he answered, kissing him softly.

“Tell me about the stars.”

[gif of these gay disasters stargazing](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com/post/181689249981/tell-me-about-the-stars-final-chapter-gif)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around until the end!!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!  
> come say hi on [tumblr!](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com)


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